%'i 


UCSB  LIBRARY 


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^^r-. 


TAKING    THE    PLEDGE.        Page  192. 


The   Red   Bridge. 


%  temperance  ^torg. 


THRACE    TALMO:^r, 


AUTHOR   OF    "EDITH    H.U.E,;     "  CAPTAIX    MOLLY,  ■    •'THE    NEW   CLERK. 
ETC.  ETC. 


NEW  YORK: 

National  Temperance  Society  and  Publication  House, 

172    WiLLiAivr    Street. 

1867. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1867,  by 

J.    N.    STEARNS, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Eastern  District 
of  New  York. 


COjSTTEIsTS 


>>»<c 


I.  With  the  Guardian,     . 
II.  Consequences, 

III.  Going  to  the  War, 

IV,  In  the  District  School, 
V.  Impressions  by  the  Way, 

VI.  Examination  Day, 
VII.  Seminary  Life, 
VIII.  Reverses, 
IX.  The  Bottled  Manuscript, 
X    The  Surprise, 


39 
61 
88 
136 
165 
•210 
242 
27.^ 
309 


The  Eed  Bridge. 
I. 

Mitlj  %  (BxxctxVxvin* 

H !  they  have  come  !  " 

"  Who  have  come  ?  " 

"  My  new  wards,  —  children  of 
my  old  college  friend^  Winslow,  who,  you 
will  remember,  died  at  his  parsonage,  a 
few  weeks  since.  I  told  you  we  might 
expect  them  about  this  time." 

The  first  speaker  was  an  intelligent 
man  of  high  bearing,  standing  at  one  of 
the  windows  of  his  residence  in  the  aris- 
tocratic   part   of  the  city  of   C .     He 

(7) 


8  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


addressed  his  maiden  sister,  who  resided 
with  her  bachelor  brother,  and  superin- 
tended his  housekeeping  arrangements. 

The  coach  had  stopped,  and  the  young 
wards  soon  after  were  shown  into  the 
presence  of  their  guardian. 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  my  children.  I  have 
forgotten  your  name,"  offering  his  hand 
to  the  oldest,  a  boy  of  sixteen.  "  Wil- 
liam !  that  is  good  to  bear  the  name  of 
your  excellent  father.  And  this  young 
lady  of  some  fourteen  summers,  is "  — 

"  Mary,"  said  the  boy,  bowing  slightly. 

Their  hands  were  both  warmly  grasped, 
when  a  presentation  to  the  sister  ensued. 

"  We  must  make  these  young  people 
at  home  with  us.  Miss  Eliza.  Will  you 
call  Kenneth  to  show  them  to  their  rooms, 
for  dinner  will  be  on  the  table  in  an  hour." 


WITH   THE   GUAKDIAN. 


When  the  young  people  had  gone  out, 
Gilbert  Jameson  entered  the  adjoining 
room,  which  was  his  library,  opened  the 
door  of  a  closet,  took  down  a  decanter, 
from  which  he  poured  a  glass  of  some 
kind  of  liquid,  and  drank  it  off  w^ithout 
pausing  for  breath.  He  then  sat  down 
at  his  writing-desk,  and  made  the  follow- 
ing entry  in  his  journal:  — 

"  Alexander  had  a  profound  affection  for 
his  noble  nurse  Lannice,  the  daughter  of 
Dropidas.  Winslow's  excellent  mother 
once  took  the  finest  care  of  me  when  I 
was  at  his  house  for  a  visit,  one  college- 
vacation,  and  had  a  dangerous  fever.  My 
fellow-student  turned  out  a  country  parson, 
and,^.  dying  early,  left  the  two  children 
with  but  a  paltry  hundred,  or  so,  apiece. 
Their  mother  died  soon  after  the  last  one 
was  born. 


10  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


"  As  I  have  never  done  much  to  bless 
the  world,  as  they  call  it,  with  my  liberal 
patrimony,  I  thought  I  would  step  for- 
ward and  take  these  precious,  forlorn 
lambs  into  my  own  fold,  and  see  what 
I  can  make  of  them. 

"  I  have  not  chick  nor  kin  but  Eliza, 
and  who  shall  say  I  love  not  wisely? 

"  The  boy  has  a  daring,  spirited  look 
that  I  fancy  prodigiously.  I  can  mould 
him  into  a  fellow  of  the  first  quality. 
But  the  girl  I  shall  turn  over  to  my  sis- 
ter. She  is  not  in  my  way;  her  quiet, 
sensible  manner  will  just  suit  Eliza.  She 
cultivates  '  Mercury's  moly^  —  the  plant 
which  breaks  the  charm  that  sometimes 
comes  from  the  good  old  wine  given  by 
the  host  of  the  Circean  palace  to  his  sur- 
feited guests." 


WITH    THE    GUARDIAN.  11 


The  contents  of  the  ruby-colored  glass, 
from  which  he  had  just  drank,  began  to 
work  in  his  brain. 

"  How  thrillingly  pleasant  it  is  to  be 
rich,  and  Jinow  that  your  foundations, 
like  the  Glitner  palace  of  the  Scandi- 
navian mythology,  are  built  on  pillars  of 
gold  !  One  feels  so  independent  who  can 
open  his  doors  that  the  needy  may  come 
in   and  sup  and  abide  there ! 

"  I  do  not  know  as  Win  slow  would  fan- 
cy my  sort  of  training  for  his  boy ;  but,  at 
all  events,  he  is  too  far  over  the  other  side 
of  the  dark  valley  to  know  or  care  much, 
I  reckon.  He  grew  so  solemn  along  the 
last  of  his  life,  whenever  I  saw  him,  which 
was  not  often,  that  distance  lent  enchant- 
ment to  his  society.  He  was  a  thoroughly 
good  fellow  to  me,  in  the  days  of  old,  and 


12  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


stood  by  me  because  I  was  his  chum,  as 
far  as  his  tender  conscience  would  permit. 
I  used  to  call  him  Baldrian,  after  the  just 
and  innocent  god,  in  honor  of  whom,  the 
v.hitest  flower  received  its  name.  But  his 
boy  here  will  make  no  Baldrian,  or  I  mis- 
take." 

While  this  was  being  written,  the  two 
young  people  had  joined  each  other  in 
Mary's  apartment,  and  thus  communi- 
cated :  — 

"  What  a  grand  and  beautiful  place !  " 
said  William,  with  animated  countenance. 
"  I  had  no  idea  we  should  drift  into  such  a 
harbor." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mary,  "  it  is  very  fine ;  but 
these  people  are  all  unknown  to  us.  There 
are  no  friends  like  our  dear  father,  —  no 
home  like  the  old  house  under  the  green 
trees  of  Blendale." 


WITH   THE    GUARDIAN.    -  13" 


"  Fudge  on  your  nonsense !  That  is 
like  you,  —  always  moping." 

Mary  said  nothing,  as  was  most  often 
her  habit  when  ridiculed  by  her  brother. 

"  We  shall  fare  here,  tip-top,"  he  went 
on,  "  while  at  home,  life  was  plain  and  sol- 
emn enough  to  make  a  fellow  hang  himself 
for  the  sake  of  variety." 

The  servant  now  announced  "  dinner  "  at 
their  door,  and  they  went  down.  No  bless- 
ing being  asked,  their  attention  was  at 
once  attracted  by  a  wine-glass  at  each 
plate,  while  several  bottles  of  an  unique 
and  costly  pattern,  stood  near  the  plate  of 
Mr.  Jameson. 

William's  eyes  Idndled  at  the  sight,  but 
Mary  secretly  wondered  what  could  be  in 
those  bottles.  If  it  were  wine  or  other 
strong   drink,  would   it   conflict   with   the 


14  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


pledge  they  had  both  signed,  up  at  Blen- 
dale? 

By  and  by,  when  the  conversation  flowed 
pleasantly  and  naturally,  Mr.  Jameson  or- 
dered one  of  the  waiters,  who  stood  near 
his  chair,  to  pour  a  glass  of  Madeira. 
This  he  handed  to  his  sister.  He  then 
asked  William  if  he  would  drink  some- 
thing light,  like  white  Constantia  ? 

"  I  will,  thank  you,"  replied  WiUiam. 

Mary  moved  uneasily  in  her  chair ;  she 
ventured  to  speak :  —  "  Brother,  you  know 
that  you  signed  the  temperance  pledge 
more  than  a  year  ago." 

"  What  of  that  ?  "  exclaimed  their  host, 
laughing  lightly ;  "  life  is  one  thing  up  in 
that  little  steady  country-place,  and  quite 
another,  here  in  town." 

"  But  ought  we  not  to  be  temperate  as 


WITH   THE    GUARDIAN.  15 


much  here  as  there?"  asked  Mary,  eying 
anxiously  the  attractive  liquor  as  it  flowed 
into  the  glass  beside  her  brother's  plate. 

"  Why,  the  fact  is,"  said  Mr.  Jameson 
with  just  a  shade  of  annoyance  in  his  tone, 
"  all  our  best  families  here  use  something 
of  this  kind  with  dinner,  as  much  as  they 
do  coffee  or  tea.  It  is  thought  nothing  of, 
I  assure  you." 

"  You  have  promised,  William,  not  to 
taste  of  any  such  drink,"  she  said,  as  she 
saw  that  he  was  about  to  take  the  glass. 

"  I  didn't  know  any  better  then ;  and 
the  lecturers  on  such  things  told  such  aw- 
ful stories  about  how  people  who  drank, 
turn  out.  I  was  ready  for  any  such  hocus- 
pocus,"  the  youth  replied. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Jameson.  "  You 
will  learn  here  to  hobnob  as  people  in  good 
society  ordinarily  do." 


16  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


"  But  do  you  never  see  anybody  round 
here  injured  by  intemperance  ?  '^  inquired 
Mary. 

«  No,  — -  that  is,  but  slightly,  if  at  all." 

His  sister's  eye  rested  fully  upon  that 
of  their  host.  He  quailed  a  little,  and 
added,  — 

"  Sometimes,  indeed,  a  body  gets  to 
drinking  hard ;  but  'tis  generally  one  who 
tried  at  first  to  abstain  totally.  When 
they  went  at  it,  for  want  of  being  used  to 
good  living,  they  didn't  know  how  to 
stop,  and  so  made  fools  of  themselves." 

Maryjooked  at  the  flushed,  spotted  face 
of  the  speaker,  and  wondered  if  he  were 
injured  by  this  habit. 

William  had  now  put  the  glass  to  his 
lips. 

"  O   brother,   don't !  "    exclaimed    Mary. 


WITH   THE    GUARDIAN.  17 


"  What  would  our  father  say,  if  he  were  to 
see  you  ?  " 

"  Nonsense,  child ! "  returned  their  guar- 
dian; "take  a  glass  of  Tokay  or  Claret 
yourself." 

"  Not  for  worlds,"  cried  Mary. 

As  she  saw  her  brother  drink  off  the 
contents  of  his  glass  with  a  keen,  delighted 
gust,  she  burst  into  tears.  Mr.  Jameson 
laughed  so  loudly  at  the  spectacle,  all  were 
startled. 

"  Do  not  ridicule  the  child,"  said  Miss 
Eliza ;  "  there  is  truth  in  what  she  says." 

"I  dare  be  bound  you  think  so.  For 
one,  I  prefer  sparkling  Champagne  or  good 
old  Bordeaux.  Here's  to  your  health  and 
right  reason,  young  miss,"  he  said,  as  the 
servant  poured  the  effervescing  wine,  while 

2* 


18  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


he  held  the  glass  with  a  hand  so  unsteady 
as  to  be  noticeable. 

William  soon  became  very  loud  and 
positive  in  his  tones,  affecting  an  unusual 
nonchalance  to  prove  his  perfect  indiffer- 
ence to  the  wounded  spirit  of  his  sister, 
and  his  ability  to  assert  his  own  manhood 
despite  her  opposition. 

No  sooner  had  they  retired  from  the 
table,  than  he  took  a  covert  opportunity  to 
rebuke  her  sharply  for  her  "  foolish  behav- 
ior." 

"  I  should  have  judged,"  he  said,  in  ex- 
cited tones,  "  that  you  would  have  had 
more  consideration  than  to  have  thus  at- 
tacked my  honor  before  others,  and  espec- 
ially such  persons  as  these.  Yon  know 
that  my  honor  was  always  dearer  to  me 
than  my  life." 


WITH  THE   GUAKDIAN.  19 


"  Dear  William,  how  can  you  reconcile 
your  honor  with  the  breaking  of  a  sol- 
emn pledge,  which  our  father  valued  so 
highly  ?  "  Mary  ventured,  timidly. 

"  Can't  you  see  the  difference  between 
country  and  city  life,  you  little  simpleton  ? 
Circumstances  alter  cases.  Here  I  am  a 
gentleman  ;  there  I  was  a  parson's  son.-' 

'•  Do  gentlemen  call  their  sisters  names, 
like  what  you  just  now  called  me  ?  " 

"  How  provoking  you  are !  You  have 
much  to  learn,"  William  proudly  ejacu- 
lated. 

"  I  have  yet  to  learn  that  it  is  right  to 
do  things  here  which  we  knew  were  very 
sinful  at  home,"  said  Mary.  "  But,  broth- 
er," she  continued,  very  tenderly,  as  if 
hardly  able  to  keep  back  her  tears,  "let 
us  go  to  God  with  this  important  matter. 


20  THE   RED    BEIDGE. 


as  our  dear  parents,  if  they  were  here, 
would  desire  us  to  do.  He  has  promised, 
if  we  lack  wisdom,  to  give  to  us  liberally, 
and  he  upbraideth  not." 

"  I  do  not  call  the  drinking  of  a  little 
good  wine  at  dinner,  when  urged  upon 
you  by  yoiu*  wiser  friends,  such  an  impor- 
tant matter.  I  guess,  too,  that  he  is  too 
great  a  Being  to  descend  to  such  trifling 
supervision,"  returned  William,  more  and 
more  irritated. 

Mary  went  to  one  of  her  trunks,  and 
took  out  a  pocket  Bible.  She  said,  as  she 
opened  it,  — 

"  This,  you  know,  was  our  dear  father's 
last  gift.  He  told  us,  whenever  we  got 
into  any  perplexity  to  open  that,  with  fer- 
vent prayer  in  the  heart,  and  attend  to  the 
instruction  we  found  there." 


WITH   THE    GUARDIAN.  21 


She  opened  it  reverently,  scarcely  expect- 
ing to  find  anything  so  relevant  as  what 
met  her  eyes.  She  read :  "  In  the  day  of 
our  king,  the  princes  have  made  him  sick 
with  bottles  of  wine ;  he  stretched  out  his 
hand  with  scorners.  For  they  have  made 
ready  their  heart  like  an  oven,  while  they 
lie  in  wait;  their  baker  sleepeth  all  the 
night;  in  the  morning,  it  burneth  as  a 
flaming  fire."     Hosea  vii.  5,  6. 

As  she  concluded,  she  lifted  her  eyes  to 
those  of  her  brother,  and  there  was  much 
meaning  in  her  look. 

"  What  do  you  make  out  of  that  ?  "  he 
asked,  with  a  dry,  scornful  laugh ;  yet  he 
was  somewhat  impressed  despite  himself. 

"  We  learn,  from  these  sacred  words," 
said  Mary,  "the  effects  of  what  we  saw 
to-day  upon  the  dinner-table.     K  you  drink 


22  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


of  those  bottles,  you  will  scorn  everything 
that  is  good." 

"  Especially  your  good  advice,  eh  ?  " 

"  And  then,"  continued  Mary,  without 
noticing  his  last  remark,  "  your  heart  will 
become  prepared  for  passion  like  an  oven, 
while  your  tempters  lie  in  wait.  Your 
conscience  will  sleep  during  the  night  of 
vice.  But,  observe,  there  is  a  morning  of 
awaking,  and  then  it  will  burn  as  a  flaming 
fire." 

"  Quite  a  little  preacher,  isn't  it?  "  said 
William,  throwing  himself  upon  the  bed. 
"  But  you  tire  me  like  all  tedious  sermon- 
izers  and  speechifiers." 

"  O  brother!  "  said  Mary,  "  why  w^ill  you 
not  be  warned  in  good  time  ?  " 

She  could  not  go  on  for  her  grief. 

"  Before  it  is   too   late,  is  what   comes 


WITH    THE    guardian;  23 


next,  according  to  orthodox  fashion,"  he 
said. 

She  gathered  herself  on  a  low  stool  be- 
hind one  of  the  window-draperies,  and 
gave  way  to  her  sobs.  WilKam  was  soon 
fast  asleep.  Every  loud,  heavy  respiration 
painfully  reminded  his  sister  of  the  effects 
of  his  potation  at  dinner. 

By-and-by  she  became  more  calm ;  and, 
rearranging  her  disordered  appearance, 
went  to  join  Miss  Eliza  in  the  parlor. 

"  Where  is  your  brother  ? "  asked  Mr. 
Jameson,  entering  at  the  same  moment. 

"  Asleep,  sir,"  replied  Mary.  She  was 
about  to  add,  "in  consequence  of  the  wine 
at  dinner ; "  but,  remembering  their  de- 
pendence upon  the  guardian,  she  checked 
her  speech. 

"  I  wanted  him  to  take  a  turn  on  horse- 


24  THE    RED    BRIDGE. 


back  with  me ;  but  never  mind,  let  him 
rest.  He  hasn't  got  used  to  affairs  here, 
yet." 

Miss  Eliza's  reserved,  stately  manners 
forbade  any  attempt  at  social  interchange 
of  conversation  on  the  part  of  Mary.  She 
found  a  fine  library  in  the  house,  from  which 
she  carried  books  to  her  own  room,  where 
she  spent  much  time  in  reading.  William 
soon  commenced  attending  school  in  the 
city,  in  order  to  complete  his  preparations 
for  college.  For  a  time,  on  Sunday,  he  at- 
tended church  with  his  sister;  but  gradu- 
ally he  absented  himself  from  the  house  of 
God  on  the  Sabbath,  and  spent  the  time  in 
pernicious  reading,  or  in  sleep  to  recover 
the  strength  which  he  wasted  by  a  pro- 
tracted vigil  on  Saturday  night. 

His  sister,  getting  alarmed  when  she  dis- 


WITH   THE    GUARDIAN.  25 


covered  his  late  hours,  questioned  him ; 
but  he  evaded  her  queries  by  some  unim- 
portant, but  false  reason.  She  then  re- 
ferred the  matter  to  their  guardian.  He  said 
he  was  probably  visiting  with  some  of  his 
school  companions ;  she  had  better  not  give 
herself  any  more  concern.  He  was  a  fine 
fellow,  and  very  much  admired  by  some  of 
the  best  fellows  in  town. 

"  Last  night,"  said  Mary,  "  I  could  not 
sleep  for  thinking  about  him,  and  I  shut 
not  my  eyes  till  long  after  he  came  in.  I 
looked  at  my  watch  when  his  foot  was  on 
the  stairs.     It  was  half-past  two  o'clock  !  " 

"  Well,  that  was  once  he  happened  to  be 
out,"  said  Mr.  Jameson.  "  I  will  speak  to 
him  about  it.  I  presume  there  is  some 
good  reason  for  the  delay.  It  is  not  wise 
to   dog   these  high-mettled    young  fellows 


26  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


too  closely.     They  have  a  spkit  which  nei- 
ther you  nor  I  can  break." 

The  next  night,  Mary  did  not  retire,  but 
sat  up  and  waited  for  her  brother.  The 
clock  struck  eleven.  He  had  not  come. 
She  then  went  to  the  housekeeper's  room 
and  asked  her  to  go  out  with  her  in  search 
of  her  brother.  "  I  overheard  him  talking 
with  Mr.  Jameson,  yesterday,  about  being 
down  at  the  club  in  Delane's  buildings 
I  wish  to  go  there  and  see  for  myself." 

"  It  is  not  safe  for  us  to  go,"  said  Mrs. 
Kenneth ;  "  but  I  will  speak  to  my  brother, 
who  works  in  the  next  house,  and  perhaps 
he  will  accompany  us." 

A  half  hour  later  the  three  went  out 
together.  When  they  had  reached  the 
place,  the  brilliantly-lighted  windows  indi- 
cated the  rooms.     They  ascended  the  pub- 


WITH   THE    GUARDIAN.  27 


lie  stairs,  and  coming  to  the  doors,  the  top 
of  which  were  glass  windows  with  red  cur- 
tains, Mrs.  Kenneth's  brother  said  he 
would  go  in  while  they  might  stand  back 
in  a  dark  angle  of  the  space.  If  William 
were  there,  he  would  remain  by  the  door, 
draw  aside  the  curtain  within,  so  that  they 
could  see  for  themselves,  while  the  dark- 
ness without  would  prevent  their  being 
seen. 

He  entered  and  was  gone  without  any 
sign,  a  long  time,  it  seemed  to  the  anxious 
watchers.  At  last,  he  came  out  and  said, 
"  I  found  the  poor  boy  lying  on  a  lounge 
in  one  of  the  ante-rooms  they  have  in  read- 
iness for  their  tight  ones.  They  told  me 
he  was  asleep.  But  I  looked  sharp,  and  if 
he  is  not  dead  drunk,  my  name  is  not 
James   Rowley.     They   are     all   gambhng 


28  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


around  the  tables  there,  and  your  brother, 
like  enough,  was  fleeced  nicely  before  they 
got  hini  well  stupefied." 

"  I  must  go  to  him,"  said  Mary,  pushing 
towards  the  door  with  a  half-frantic 
gesture. 

"  No,  miss ;  that  will  not  do.  They 
would  all  take  you  for  a  woman  about  the 
town,  if  you  were  seen  in  there." 

"  I  care  for  nothing  but  my  brother,  — 
my  poor,  ruined  William.  My  father 
would  wish  me  to  dare  life  itself  for  his  res- 
cue,    i  must  go  I     Stand  aside." 

Before  they  could  prevent,  she  had 
sprung  through  that  door,  and  the  next  mo- 
ment stood  alone  in  the  midst  of  that 
scene  of  brilliant  and  half-demoniac  rev- 
elry. 

Her  large,   dark    eyes    now    fired    with 


WITH   THE    GUAPtDIAN.  29 


an  agony  so  intense  they  seemed  to  burn 
in  their  sockets  like  superhuman  fires,  lit 
up  her  almost  death-white  face  with  a 
startling  expression.  Even  those  hardened 
men,  those  reckless  youth,  and  the  accus- 
tomed attendants,  were  arrested  in  their 
several  pursuits,  and  paused  like  persons 
struck  by  a  spell. 

For  a  moment  she  stood  still,  as  if  to 
collect  her  senses  sufficient  to  discover 
the  way  to  the  apartment  in  which  was 
her  brother.  Then,  pointing  with  her 
finger  towards  a  gray-haired  man,^  who 
sat  at  the  head  of  a  faro-table,  she  called 
out  to  him  in  a  voice  not  to  be  mis- 
taken, as  the  utterance  of  a  spirit  ut- 
terly abandoned  to  woe,  but  yet  reserv- 
ing an  irresistible  purpose, — 

"  Tell  me !  —  where  is  my  brother  ?  " 
3  - 


30  THE  RED  BRIDGE. 


He  neither  spoke  nor  moved. 

"  After  you  have  accomplished  his  ruin, 

—  my  once  innocent,  good-hearted  brother  I 

—  will  you  not  tell  me  where  I  may  find 
him,  and  weep  tears  of  blood  over  his 
beastly  intoxication  ?  "  Then  turning  to 
another,  who  sat  next  the  confounded  man, 

—  "  It  is  William  Winslow  I  am  seeking. 
He  is  here,  and  I  will  go  to  him  if  it  costs 
every  life-drop  in   my  veins ! " 

By  this  time  her  attendant,  James 
Rowley,  had  followed  and  gained  her  side. 
"  Here,"  said  he,  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  will 
show  you  where  he  is." 

He  led  her  to  the  side  of  the  intoxi- 
cated youth.  Mary's  eyes  took  in  the 
whole  truth  at  a  glance.  She  knelt  down 
by  his  couch,  and  suffered  her  head  to 
fall  beside  his  flushed,  bloated  face,  while 
she  spoke  not  a  word. 


WITH   THE    GUARDIAN.  31 


The  now  excited  crowd  of  frequenters 
of  that  place  rushed  to  the  door  of  the 
apartment  to  see  what  had  become  of  the 
"  insane  girl,"  as  they  termed  her.  But 
the  spectacle  which  met  their  eyes,  one 
after  another,  caused  them  to  turn  back, 
with  a  sharp  remorse  glancing  athwart 
their  souls,  even  as  a  lightning  flash 
across  a  dark  storm-sky. 

"  The  door  should  always  be  kept 
locked,"  said  the  man  who  seemed  to 
preside  over  those  orgies ;  "  hereafter,  if 
this  is  not  attended  to,  I  will  knock  down 
the  first  servant  who  disobeys  orders." 

"  It  is  one  of  the  curses  of  life,  these 
women  who  prowl  around  after  folks 
where  and  when  they  have  no  business," 
said  another. 

"  My  young   wife   will  be   looking   me 


32  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


up  next,"  said  a  thii*d ;  "  she  has  been 
insufferably  cross  lately," 

"  '  Drink,'  said  Philip  to  his  companions, 
'  drink,  ail  is  safe  for  Antipater  is  awake.' 
So  say  I  to  you,  remorseful  Benedict. 
Drink,  and  I  will  keep  awake  to  watch 
that  no  more  of  these  silly  girls  disturb 
our  felicity,"  now  spoke  a  heavy,  stern- 
browed  man,  who  had  surveyed  the  scene 
for  the  last  few  minutes,  apparently  more 
amused   than  disturbed. 

Meantime  the  poor  girl  had  literally 
bathed  the  face  of  her  stupefied  brother 
with  her  tears,  while  James,  with  an  at- 
tendant, had  made  efforts  for  his  restora- 
tion to  consciousness.  It  was,  however, 
a  full  hour  before  the  young  man  opened 
his  eyes  with  a  look  of  consciousness. 
When    his   gaze    fell    upon    his    half-dis- 


WITH    THE    GUARDIAN.  33 


tracted  sister,  who  sat  near,  wringing  her 
hands,  and  vainly  trying  to  choke  down 
her  convulsive  sobs,  he  started  like  one 
with  the  consciousness  of  having  been 
shot. 

"  Why  are  you  here  ?  Has  anythnig 
happened  ?  "  he  quickly  asked. 

"  I  guess,  said  James  E-owley,  "  the 
sooner  you  get  up  out  of  this  place  and 
go  home  with  us,  the  better  it  will  be 
for  your  sister,  and  perhaps  for  your- 
self." 

"  Do  you  intend  to  insult  me  ?  "  quickly 
demanded  William,  with  flashing  eyes. 

'^  O  brother  ! "  now  spoke  Mary,  "  ask 
no  more  questions.  You  have  been  intoxi- 
cated." 

"  Yes,"  said  James,  "  we  found  you  here 
a  while  ago,  dead  drunk." 


34  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


"  What  I  what !  "  stammered  William, 
confusedly  trying  to  stand  erect,  "  do  you 
implicate  my  honor?  " 

James  now  took  him  by  the  arm,  while 
Mary  followed  like  a  soul-stricken  mourner, 
behind ;  and  they  walked  out  through  that 
long  saloon,  filled  with  rioters,  drunkards, 
and  gamblers. 

"  What  think  you,  pretty  inspector  of 
customs  and  so  forth,  of  this  place  ?  "  called 
out  one  of  the  boldest  of  the  bacchanals, 
as  she  brushed  past  his  chair. 

In  a  state  of  desperation  bordering  upon 
frenzy,  she  replied,  with  a  tone  which  sent 
a  cold  chill  to  every  one  of  those  hearts, 
hardened  to  flint  though  most  of  them 
were,  — 

"  The  place  of  a  skull.  Yokt  wine  is 
mingled  with  a  poison  which  shall  gnaiv  you 
some  day,  to  the  quick  of  your  souls  .'" 


WITH   THE    GUARDIAN.  35 


The  door  closed  with  a  clang.  She  was 
gone. 

"  I  hate  such  scenes,"  said  a  man,  sad- 
der-eyed than  his  fellows.  "  It  would  be 
worth  while  to  die,  to  get  rid  of  all  of 
them." 

"  It  is  a  question  whether  we  should  not 
then  be  jumping  out  of  the  frying-pan  into 
the  fire.  We  might  make  a  bad  matter 
worse,  I  reckon,"  was  heard  in  reply. 

No  sooner  had  the  staggering,  stammer- 
ing brother  been  safely  conducted  to  his 
bed,  than  Mary  went  to  her  own  room,  but 
not  to  rest  a  moment  that  night.  The 
recent  terrible  excitement,  for  which  her 
delicate  organization  and  refined  nurture 
had  rendered  her  totally  unprepared,  had 
wrought  too  subtilely  into  her  very  being. 

The  next  morning   she  was  found  in  a 


36  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


state  of  high  fever.  Her  delirious  cries  re- 
specting her  brother,  were  enough  to  shake 
the  stoutest  heart.  William  visited  her 
bedside  as  rarely  as  possible  ;  and  then, 
notwithstanding  his  efforts  to  maintain  the 
appearance  of  a  "  gentleman  "  and  a  "  man 
of  honor,"  he  really  seemed  more  like  a  cul- 
prit in  the  presence  of  the  sister  whom  he 
had  so  much  injured. 

At  length  the  physician  said  that  her  life 
hung,  as  it  were,  upon  a  thread.  She 
might  not  survive  the  approaching  crisis. 
William  seemed  now  fully  aroused  to  her 
critical  situation ;  and  his  good  angel  was 
allowed  to  so  far  recover  the  ascendency  as 
to  persuade  him  to  cry  unto  God  for  the 
precious  life  of  his  sister. 

"  If  she  dies,"  he  groaned  bitterly  in  the 
solitude  of  his  own  thoughts,  "  I  shall  be 


WITH  i^HE   GUARDIAN.  37 


her  murderer.  The  brand  of  Caui  will 
evermore  be  on  my  brow.  Then  spare  her, 
O  my  Father !  Spare  her,  and  I  will  vow 
to  reform  and  be  a  new  man.  If  I  keep 
not  this  vow,  and  her  life  is  once  more 
given  to  me,  thou  mayest  take  my  life  as 
the  price  of  the  broken  vow." 

On  the  sad  night  which  was  to  decide 
her  fate  for  life  or  death,  William  remained 
like  one  fixed  by  invisible  chains  in  the  sick- 
chamber.  He  scarcely  dared  move  or 
speak.  About  midnight  she  appeared  to 
be  dymg.  The  windows  were  thrown  up 
and  the  doors  opened. 

"  Terrible,  terrible  !  "  he  thought ;  "  the 
last  time  she  ever  saw  me  in  the  face,  I 
was  half-stupefied  with  liquor,  —  and  I 
have   killed  her.     My  poor  sister!     What 


38  THE   RED   BillDGE. 


tidings  will  she  bear  to  my  father  and 
mother  ?  " 

Next,  a  low,  faint  cry  was  heard. 

"  Water,  water,"  murmured  the  sick  girl, 
unclosing  her  eyes  and  looking  around  from 
one  to  another  of  the  anxious  watchers. 

"  It  is  beautiful,"  she  said,  as  it  was  held 
to  her  lips.  "  I  just  saw  father.  I  would 
have  gone  to  him,  for  it  was  so  lovely 
where  he  was,  but  he  shook  his  head  and 
said,  — '  No,  my  child,  not  yet.'  It  was 
just  as  natural  as  though  he  had  really 
spoken  to  me." 

"  She  will  live,"  said  the  physician ; 
and  he  motioned  William  to  leave  the 
room,  lest  the  sight  of  him  should  prove 
dangerous  in   her  present  weak  condition. 

William  went  to  his  room,  fell  upon 
his   knees,   and  repeated   his   vow. 


II. 

fT  was  now  early  June,  and  Gilbert 
.^^^  Jameson,  with  his  household,  had 
^^^  left  the  city  for  his  country-house 
in  Welfield,  a  small  village  some  half- 
score  of  miles  from  the  city.  JMary  had 
so  far  recovered  her  strength  as  to 
keenly  enjoy  the  change  to  the  pure 
country  air,  the  stillness,  and  the  rare 
beauty  which  surrounded  the  residence 
on   every  side. 

On  the  day  following  their  arrival,  she 
sat  in  her  chamber,  awaiting  the  return 
of  her  brother  from  the  city,  —  whither 
he  went    daily  to    continue    his    attend- 

(39) 


40  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


ance  at  school,  until  the  vacation.  A 
thin  mist,  but  half-blending  the  chrome- 
green  leaves  of  the  trees,  spread  softly 
over  the  valley  which  lay  in  undulating 
beauty  between  the  place  and  the  build- 
ings of  the  thriving  little  village,  from 
whence  William  would  walk  from  the 
depot.  This  gossamer  mist  was  a  thought- 
making  softener  of  landscape-effects,  hov- 
ering like  a  dream  over  the  wet  grass  of 
early  summer,  which  grew  so  magically 
in  the  humid  atmosphere,  the  god  Heim- 
dal,  as  of  old,  could  have  heard  its  deli- 
catest  waxings  into   newer   life. 

Mary  wrote  rapidly  in  order  to  con- 
clude her  self-imposed  task  before  the 
coming  of  her  brother,  —  which  was  the 
copying  of  one  of  his  school-compositions, 
she  that  particularly  liked,  into  her  note- 


CONSEQUENCES.  41 


book.  But  as  the  twilight  stole  on,  hardly- 
perceived,  she  was  forced  to  drop  her 
pen.  Then,  turning  her  back  to  the 
window,  from  which  she  had  once  more 
strained  her  vision  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  beloved  form,  in  vain,  she  looked 
away  into  vacuity  and  repeated  the  title 
of  his  Theme :  "  He  conquers,  who  con- 
quers himself."  Thoughts  of  the  possi- 
bilities of  the  rather  dark-looking  future 
welled  up  in  her  soul.  William  had  not 
appeared  of  late  as  he  had  for  several 
weeks  after  her  illness.  He  was  more 
irritable  when  questioned,  and  there  was 
something  about  his  manner  which  in- 
dicated a  concealed  anxiety  and  unrest, 
for  which  she  was  at  a  loss  to  account. 
But  a  day  or  two  since,  he  had  applied 
to   her   for   the   loan   of  her  quarterly  al- 

4* 


42  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


lowance  from  their  benevolent  guardian; 
and  when  told  that  she  had  not  yet  re- 
ceived it,  he  had  said  impatiently  that  she 
must  ask  Mr.  Jameson  for  the  money,  on 
some  pretext  or  other,  that  she  might 
obtain  it  for  his  use.  She  asked  him 
what  disposition  he  made  of  his  own 
ample  allowance.  He  had  assigned  sev- 
eral reasons  why  it  had  not  proved 
sufficient,  but  none  of  them  had  been 
satisfactory. 

"  If  I  only  had  entire  confidence  in  him, 
how  different  I  should  feel ! "  she  sighed  to 
herself. 

"  He  conquers,  who  conquers  himself,  — 
vincitf  qui  se  vincit,^^  —  she  repeated.  "  But 
has  William  half  conquered  himself  yet? 
True,  he  writes  finely  upon  the  noble 
theme,  and  when  I  have  been  talking  with 


CONSEQUENCES.  43 


him,  since  my  days  of  hovering  between 
life  and  death,  he  has  sometimes  spoken 
tenderly,  and  has  even  wept  with  appar- 
ently deep  emotion. 

" '  It  is  so  hard,'  he  said,  but  yesterday, 
*  to  resist  the  strong  temptations  which  al- 
lure on  every  side,  when  one  has  a  dispo- 
sition to  please  one's  self.'  In  yom-  own 
strength,  it  is  indeed  hard,  I  said ;  but  do 
you  depend  on  Him  who  alone  is  able  to 
preserve  us  from  failing  ?  '  I  am  afraid 
not,'  was  his  reply.  I,  too,  am  afraid  that 
he  neglects  secret  prayer,  the  true  safeguard 
of  the  soul,  as  our  father  often  has  said. 
When  I  remind  him  of  these  important  du- 
ties, he  laughs,  and  says  I  am  supersti- 
tious." 

Mary  now  opened  the  pocket  Bible,  ac- 
cording to  her  custom  in  moments  of  anx- 


44  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


iety.  She  could  scarcely  discern  one  word 
from  another  ;  but  she  made  out,  —  "  This 
is  the  victory  that  overcometh,  even  our 
faith." 

That  divine  word  faith  touched  the  cur- 
rent of  her  pulsing  thought,  as  words  sent 
by  angels  only  can.  A  new  revelation  of 
meaning  opened  before  the  drift  of  her 
emotion. 

As  in  mathematics  certain  numbers  are 
wrought  into  given  quantities  by  means  of 
affixed  indices  or  powers,  so  these  power- 
inspired  words  have  hidden  meanings, — 
revelations  within  revelations,  which  grow 
upon  the  spiritual  recognition  until  the 
simple  word-stone,  cut  out  of  the  eternal 
mountain,  fills  the  whole  soul. 

"  I  will  go  below,"  she  said,  at  length, 
"  and  see  if  William  has  not  come.     The 


CONSEQUENCES.  45 


time  of  his  arrival  must  have  been  due 
some  minutes  ago." 

She  had  scarcely  reached  the  landing, 
when  she  met  a  strange  gentleman,  fol- 
lowed by  JVIr.  Jameson,  whose  excited 
manner  at  once  arrested  her  attention. 
Her  first  apprehension  was  for  William; 
and  she  was  about  to  ask  her  guardian  if 
anything  had  happened  to  him,  when  they 
both  brushed  by,  apparently  intent  on  busi- 
ness of  their  own,  and,  after  making  the 
circuit  of  the  principal  rooms  in  the  house, 
repaired  to  the  library,  and  locked  them- 
selves within.  With  a  confused  impres- 
sion that  all  was  not  right,  Mary  sought 
Miss  Eliza. 

That  lady  sat  motionless  ;  but  the  rigid, 
tense  lines  of  her  face  revealed  that  a  great 
emotion  of  some  kind  was  shut  up  in  her 


46  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


soul.  .To  Mary's  hurried  inquiries,  she  an- 
swered in  the  briefest  possible  manner, 
finally  requesting  to  be  left  to  herself.  But 
Mary  found  Mrs.  Kenneth  more  intelligent 
upon  the  matter. 

"  Who  would  have  dreamed  we  should 
ever  have  hved  to  this  day?"  she  ejacu- 
lated. 

"  Pray  do  not  keep  me  longer  in  sus- 
pense," said  Mary.  "  What  can  have  hap- 
pened ?  " 

"  I  can't  exactly  say  for  certain,"  she  re- 
plied, "  but  Jones  (indicating  the  coach- 
man) says  that  the  stranger  who  came  out 
to-night,  and  has  been  prowling  around 
here  for  the  last  hour  with  master,  is  a 
sheriff.  He  overheard  them  talking  to- 
gether, and  it  seems  that  master  has  met 
with    great   losses   lately,   by   giving   bail 


CONSEQUENCES.  47 


for  some  friend  or  other ;  and  things  have 
smashed  up  so  that  all  the  property  here 
and  in  town  is  attached." 

"  Dreadful !  "  exclaimed  Mary.  "  When 
Mr.  Jameson  is  so  kind,  too ! " 

"  Yes  ;  it  is  just  like  him  to  ruin  himself 
for  his  friends,  any  day ;  that  is,  it  is  like 
him  for  these  few  years  last  past.  Be- 
tween you  and  me,  Miss  Mary  "  (lowering 
her  voice  to  a  whisper),  "  master  has  greatly 
changed  from  what  he  was  once.  He 
used  to  be  a  right  shrewd  man ;  but,  —  I 
don't  know  as  I  ought  to  tell  you, — 
haven't  you  noticed  nothing  since  you 
came  to  live  with  us  ?  " 

"  To  what  do  you  refer  ?  "  asked  Mary. 

"  Don't  you  think  master  carries  a  rather 
red  face,  and  isn't  he  a  great  deal  more 
social,  sometimes, — just   after   dinner,  for 


48  THE  BED   BRIDGE. 


instance,  —  than  he  is  in  the  morning  ? 
And  what  do  you  think  he  shuts  himself 
up  for,  sometimes,  whole  days  together  ?  " 

"  He  says  he  has  dreadful  headache 
spells,"  returned  Mary. 

"  But  you  never  hear  Miss  Eliza  say  so 
of  him,  —  do  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  she  does." 

"  Not  she,  nor  I,  nor  any  of  us  who 
know.  It  is  something  much  worse  than 
a  common  headache,  I  assure  you.  Poor 
man  !  it  is  such  a  pity  he  can't  drink  just 
enough,  and  then  stop." 

"  No,"  replied  Mary ;  "  the  pity  is  that 
he  drinks  at  all.  Just  enough  is  not  any^ 
which  quantity  alone  is  safe." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  she  said ;  "  for  there  is 
Jones  and  Pelley,  who  always  drink  what 
is  left  at  dinner,  and  steal  out  of  master's 


CONSEQUEXCES.  49 


wine-cellar  a  bottle  or  so  whenever  they 
can ;  and  they  get  half-seas-over  every 
once  in  a  while.  They  have  both  been 
threatened  with  a  walking-ticket  if  they're 
caught  at  their  old  tricks  again.  I  hope 
they'll  get  their  dues  before  long ;  for  two 
more  silly,  obstinate  fellows  the  sun  never 
shines  on,  than  they  both." 

The  outer  door  was  now  heard  to  shut, 
whereupon  the  footman  returned  to  the 
kitchen,  rubbing  his  hands  and  looking 
mysterious. 

"  Who  was  that  ?  "  asked  IMi's.  Kenneth. 

"  Couldn't  be  after  telling  yer  honor  at 
all.  It's  niver  safe  to  commit  big  sacrets 
to  women ;  for  they's  no  sacrets  iver  after, 
sure." 

"  I  know,"  said  JVIrs.  Kenneth,  with  a 
confident  air. 

5 


50  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


"  And  what  did  yez  be  after  axing  for, 
thin?" 

"  To  see  if  you  knew  as  much  as  I  do, 
which,  of  course,  you  do  not." 

"  Do  you  know  whether  my  brother  has 
returned  to  night?"  now  asked  Mary  of 
Pelley. 

"  I  haven't  seen  him  at  all,  miss,  an'  I 
be  thinkin'  he'll  stop  over  in  the  city  to- 
night, as  the  cars  have  been  here  and  gone 
this  more'n  thin  an  hour." 

"  I  am  so  sorry !  "  ejaculated  Mary  to 
herself. 

"  Yes,"  said  Pelley ;  "  it's  a  pity  a 
young  gintleman  of  the  likes  of  him 
couldn't  be  after  a  little  more  of  the 
sobriety.  Ye  see,  miss,"  he  continued, 
perceiving  IMary's  look  of  astonishment  at 
his  words,  "  me  cousin  it  is  who  lives  in 


CONSEQUENCES.  51 


one  of  the  grand  saloons  of  the  city ;  and 
he  was  jest  up  to  tellin'  me,  last  Sunday, 
what  a  botheration  it  was  to  have  the 
young  gintlemen  with  a  plinty  of  money 
in  their  pockets  a  comin'  there,  and  then  a 
gettin'  drunk  for  him  to  look  after  them ; 
and  thin,  whin  they'd  gambled  away  all 
their  money,  they'd  nothin'  to  git  away 
with,  till  he  had  to  go  round  an'  borrow 
enough  to  git  thim  off  away  in  any  dacent 
shape,  at  all." 

"  Did  your  cousin  say  that  my  brother 
was  one  of  these?"  asked  Mary,  turning 
very  pale. 

"  Why,  ye  see,  miss,  I  shouldn't  be  after 
letting  on  what  he  tells  me  about  his 
business,  and  perhaps,  —  perhaps  Master 
William  wasn't  there  among  the  lot  o' 
fellows." 


52  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


"  Of  course,  he  wasn't,"  said  Mrs.  Ken- 
neth winking  at  Pelley  with  a  look  of 
alarm. 

Mary  now  went  away  and  hurriedly 
sought  her  chamber. 

"  Don't  you  remember  she  took  so  sick 
with  that  fever,  all  because  of  that  worth- 
less brother  of  hers  ?  Why  could  you  not 
take  my  warning  and  hold  your  lips  in 
season  ?  "     said  Mrs.  Kenneth. 

"  I'd  be  blasted  if  I's  after  thinkin'  at  all, 
at  all,  and  she  as  white  as  a  shate  all  the 
time.  She's  a  nice  young  leddy,  is  Miss 
Mary,  and  I'd  see  the  apple  of  me  own 
eyes  drop  oot  and  fall  to  the  ground,  be- 
fore I'd  wound  her  illegant  feelings,  if  I'd 
ha'  thought.     Och  botheration !  " 

"  While  the  world  stands,"  said  Mrs. 
Kenneth,  "  there  must  always  be  somebody 


CONSEQUENCES.  53 


like  that  good-for-nothing  brother  of  hers, 
to  torment  a  good  woman's  soul  out  of  her 
body,  piecemeal,  as  it  were." 

"  It's  very  fortunate.  Mistress  Kenneth, 
that  your  sek  is  made  to  be  endurin'  the 
sufFerin',  an  so  ye  jest  take  to  it  naturally 
like.  If  it  wasn't  for  the  likes  of  us,  ye'd 
have  nothin'  to  do,  worth  mentionin'  at  all, 
faix  !  " 

It  was  indeed  fortunate  for  the  Irish- 
man that  he  made  his  escape  at  that  mo- 
ment, for  had  he  remained,  it  is  doubtful 
if  the  other  "  sek "  had  not  suffered  the 
most  on  this  occasion,  at  least  in  the  war 
of  words. 

It  was  not  very  late  that  night  when 
Mary  heard  a  knock  on  her  door,  and,  obey- 
ing the  summons,  found  Miss  Eliza  there, 
in  a  state  of  excitement  of  such  a  nature 

5  * 


54  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


as  she  had  not  supposed  that  apparently 
impassive  lady  to  have  been  capable. 

"  My  brother  is  very  sick,"  she  said  in 
suppressed  tones,  "  and  both  the  men-ser- 
vants, it  appears,  took  this  occasion  to  get 
into  such  a  state  of  intoxication,  that  they 
knew  not  their  right  hand  from  their  left, 
and  so  I  see  no  other  way  than  for  you  to 
go  to  the  village  for  a  physician,  as  Ken- 
neth's services  are  required  with  me  in 
attending  to  Mr.  Jameson." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Mary,  ''  I  am  glad 
to  be  of  help  to  you." 

"  After  all,"  said  she,  "  I  suppose  you 
do  not  even  know  the  way  to  the  doctor's 
house,  and,  as  it  is  in  the  evening,  it  would 
be  unsafe  for  you,  even  here  in  this  quiet 
place.  Would  you  dare  take  Kenneth's 
place  with  me  at  his  bedside  while  she 
goes  for  aid  ?  " 


CONSEQUENCES.  55 


"  Dare  ?  Why  not  ?  I  am  not  unused 
to  sickness,"  returned  Mary. 

"But  you  are  probably  unused  to  such 
sickness  as  this,"  that  lady  returned,  bit- 
terly. 

Mary  followed  Miss  Eliza  without  fur- 
ther delay,  but  when  they  reached  the  sick 
man's  door,  Miss  Eliza  stopped  as  if 
dreading  to  enter. 

"  Do  not  be  frightened,"  she  said  ;  "  he  is 
out  of  his  head  to-night,  in  consequence 
of  the  great  pressure  of  business  to-day." 

A  strange  sensation  fell  upon  her  mind, 
as  Mary  followed  the  sister  into  her  guar- 
dian's room  and  heard  his  wild  ravings,  for 
she  was  all  unused  to  madness  in  even  its 
mildest  forms. 

IMr.  Jameson's  bloodshot  eyes  glared  on 
her  as  she  entered,  so  that  she  moved  be- 


56  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


hind  the  figure  of  Mrs.  Kenneth,  who  was 
about  going  out,  to  collect  herself  for  the 
dreaded  spectacle. 

"  You  need  not  be  afraid,"  whispered 
that  woman,  "  for  Miss  Eliza  and  I  have 
bound  him  into  his  bed  with  such  strong 
cords  it  will  take  him  some  time  to  break 
them.  I  saw  that  the  fit  was  coming  on, 
and  while  he  lay  for  a  few  minutes  in  one 
of  the  stupors,  we  got  complete  mastery 
of  him." 

"  Give  me  some  brandy,  will  you,  girl  ?  " 
he  said  in  a  tone  of  persuasive  command. 
"  There,  in  my  closet,  you  will  find  a 
pretty  good  supply  for  the  present.  What ! 
do  you  hesitate  ? "  he  continued  in  a 
louder  tone,  "  when  there  sits  the  demon 
Ruin,  with  his  horrible  grinning,  and  those 
snakes   crawling   up   from  the  floor,  with 


CONSEQUENCES.  57 


their  mouths  open  at  me  I  The  electrical 
eels  of  the  Orinoco  and  the  slimy  gym- 
noti  which  you  see  there  all  over  the  wall, 
are  here  to  do  my  bidding." 

Miss  EKza  held  a  glass  of  liquor  to  his 
mouth,  which  he  drank  off  with  a  beastly 
ferocity.  "  That  is  the  bibendi,^''  he  cried ; 
"the  imp,  there,  over  the  chandelier,  ap- 
proves. See  here,  Mary,  you  once  asked 
me  if  drinking  wine  did  not  injm-e  any 
of  us  ?  You  have  here  convincing  proof 
of  the  good  there  is  in  all  sorts  of  liquors. 
I  have  fourteen  different  brands  in  my  wine- 
cellar,  and  every  one  is  a  golden  flower  from 
the  wreath  of  immortelles^  which  crowns 
Beelzebub.  *  Drink,  and  remember  your 
misery   no  more, '  cries  Ruin,  there  !  " 

The  poor  man  gradually  ceased  his 
ravings,  grew  incoherent,  and  finally  lapsed 
into  a  temporary  fit  of  stupidity. 


58  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


Mary,  sick  at  heart,  turned  her  eyes 
away  from  that  scene  of  wretchedness. 
In  so  doing,  they  accidentally  rested  upon 
an  open  manuscript- volume,  which  lay  on 
the  writing-desk,  just  behind  her  chair. 
Without  any  effort,  in  the  full  light  of 
the  chandelier,  she  read,  in  the  weU-known 
chirography  of  her  guardian,  as  follows  :  — 

"  Welcome  my  Journal  in  these  moments 
of  new  and  exquisite  anguish?  A  de- 
cisive blow  has  just  been  struck  at  my 
heart,  and  I  bleed  at  every  pore.  Yester- 
day, I  thought  I  was  good  for  at  least  a 
cool  half-million.  To-night  I  find  myself 
a  victim  to  inevitable  ruin.  I  lent  my 
name, — fool  that  I  was !  —  to  my  old  friend 
Dillingsly,  to  back  him  in  some  grand 
speculations,  which  he  calculated  would 
make  a  splendid   return.     They   have   all 


CONSEQUENCES.  59 


broken  and  gone  up  to  the  idle  winds. 
My  fortune,  which  my  father  toiled  so 
long  and  so  hard  to  amass,  has  gone  with 
them  I 

"  I  should  have  known  better,  I  sup- 
pose, than  to  lend  my  name  to  so  much 
paper ;  but  he  always  used  to  get  me  into 
his  house  and  order  on  some  new,  choice 
liquor  he  had  just  imported,  which  he 
wished  me  to  try  ;  and  then,  after  I  had 
well  drank,  he  could  come  the  wool  over 
my  eyes.  I  see  it  all  when  it  is  too  late. 
There  is  no  remedy  now;  my  mind  and 
soul  may  as  well  keep  my  estate  company 
in  ruin. 

"  I  will  drink  without  stint  till  my  cellar 
is  drained,  and  then,  —  why,  then  I  will 
go  mad,  and  shoot  myself,  for  aught  I 
know." 


60  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


Mary  closed  the  book  to  shut  from 
sight  the  record  of  the  wasted  life,  which 
touched  her  own  heart  even  to  blinding 
tears.  The  poor  victim  to  delirium  tre- 
mens now  attempted  to  beat  something  in 
the  ah'  above  him ;  then,  unclosing  his 
eyes,  seemed  to  listen  a  moment. 

"  One  of  the  voices  just  spoke  to  me 
from  up  there  in  that  rift  in  the  clouds,  he 
said.  *  Gilbert,'  I  heard  as  plain  as  ever  my 
mother  spoke  to  me  when  she  was  alive. 
My  name !  how  it  sounded  on  those  pure 
lips  !  Anxiously  I  waited  to  catch  what 
the  voice  said  next ;  but,  just  then,  a  dark 
spnit  came,  and  spread  his  choking  wings 
all  over  my  face,  so  that  I  could  see  nor 
hear  no  more." 

At  this  moment  the  village  physician 
entered,  and  Mary  gladly  resigned  her 
post  of  watcher  over  the  sick  man. 


III. 

(5omci  to  tlje  Wiux, 

fHE   next  day  Mary  received  the  fol- 


r.A  lowing  letter  from  William  :  — 

^        "  My  dear  Sister  :  — 

"  When  you  were  seized  with 
that  fearful  sickness,  I  reflected  much  on 
what  I  was,  and  what  I  had  been,  and  I 
made  a  vow  to  God  that  if  he  would 
spare  your  life,  I  would  reform  and  hence- 
forth take  a  new  and  different  course.  I 
also  vowed  that  if  he  heard  my  prayer  so 
as  to  spare  your  life,  and  I  should  fail  of 
keeping    my    promise    of    reformation,    I 

6  (61) 


62  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


would   willingly   give   up  my  life   as   the 
penalty. 

"  For  some  time  after  your  life  was  given 
back  to  me,  I  was  reformed.  I  attended 
steadily  to  my  appointed  duties  and  re- 
gained some  of  my  lost  standing  in  my 
classes.  When  my  old  companions  who 
helped  lead  me  away  tried  their  influence 
anew,  I  was  strong  enough  to  resist  them 
all  and  go  right  on,  looking  neither  to  the 
right  nor  the  left.  But  one  day,  when  you 
and  Miss  Eliza  were  out,  I  dined  with  our 
guardian,  and  he  pressed  me  so  hard  to 
drink  with  him,  I  yielded.  An  hour  after, 
I  went  out  on  the  street  in  order  to  walk 
down  my  remorse.  I  met  one  of  those 
wild  young  bloods  who  know  just  how  to 
go  at  a  fellow  the  right  way  to  lead  him 
on  to  his  ruin;  he  took  me  by  the  arm  and 


GOING   TO    THE    WAR.  63 


before  I  was  hardly  aware,  I  was  in  the 
old  club-room  again.  It  was  then  early 
evening,  and  as  a  few  of  the  choice  ones 
were  already  there,  they  urged  me  to  sit 
down  and  play  for  a  new  and  attractive 
book  which  was  offered  as  the  stake.  I 
hesitated,  remembering  distinctly  my  vow. 

"  '  But  after  all,'  thought  I,  '  it  is  only  for 
a  book,  and  anything  so  trifling  as  such  a 
stake,  can  hardly  be  scrupulously  included 
in  the  spmt  of  my  vow.  I  yielded.  The 
game  concluded  and  the  book  was  mine.' 

" '  Good  ! '  cried  my  companions ;  *  he  de- 
serves something  after  his  long  vigils  in  si- 
lence and  seclusion.  This  will  cheer  him 
up.' 

"  The  rest  of  them  soon  engaged  in  a  new 
game  with  a  stake  of  fifty  dollars.  Just 
one  more  fellow  was  wanted  to  complete 


64  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


the  compliment  of  players  desired.  They 
fell  upon  me  with  the  most  friendly  and 
persuasive  words.  I  refused,  and  then 
they  taunted  me  with  meanness.  My  blood 
rose  immediately,  for  my  honor  could  not 
stand  a  charge  like  that.  I  joined  them 
without  further  parley. 

"  This  time,  the  successful  winner  was 
not  me,  and  I  was  one  of  five  who 
must  make  up  the  sum.  I  took  out 
my  porte-monnaie  and  found  I  had  but 
nine  dollars,  and  two  of  these  I  had 
received  from  you,  with  which  to  exe- 
cute a  commission  to  the  bookstore. 
I  resolved  to  say  nothing,  but  to  play 
one  game  more,  when  I  might  recover 
the  lost  sum,  and,  perhaps,  make  some- 
thing. Four  games  more  I  played,  and 
found     myself     just     one     hundred     and 


GOING   TO    THE    WAR.  65 


twenty-five  dollars  in  debt.  I  was  so 
chagrined  I  readily  accepted  the  liquor 
proffered  me  by  my  '  good  friends  '  who 
had  fleeced  me=  I  drank  till  I  was  a 
beast  again.  The  next  day  I  went  to 
'our  guardian  for  money,  representing  my 
urgent  need  to  defray  some  school-ex- 
penses. He  kindly  gave  me  one  hundred 
dollars.  Still  I  was  in  debt,  and  the  next 
night  did  not  hesitate  to  play.  I  won 
and  I  lost,  won  and  lost,  till  I  was 
nearly  in  a  state  of  frenzy.  This  caused 
me  to  so  neglect  my  studies,  I  was  first 
reprimanded  by  my  teachers ;  then  I  vras 
suspended;  yesterday  I  was  expelled  in 
disgrace.  Last  night  I  took  my  resolu- 
tion. I  have  enlisted  as  a  common  sol- 
dier, to  join  the  regiment  which  leaves 
to-morrow,   hoping   that   I   shall    be    shot 


6  * 


66  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


by  the  rebels  at  the  first  good  opportu- 
nity. I  will  keep  at  least  one  vow  I 
have  made  in  my  life.  So  end  my 
dreams   of  college. 

"  Mary !  the  great  mistake  of  my  life 
was  the  breaking  of  the  Temperance 
Pledge  which  I  signed  when  we  lived  at 
home.  You  did  your  duty.  Oh !  that  I 
had  taken  heed  to  your  warning  words! 
But  it  required  a  stout  heart  to  resist  the 
temptation  of  seductive  liquors,  on  every 
dinner-table,  before  one's  eyes,  —  a  stouter 
one  than  mine,  with  my  self-will  and  high 
spirit,  v/hich  father  never  made  to  yield. 

"  If  ever  there  was  a  miserable  per- 
son in  the  world,  it  is  myself.  Not  yet 
but  a  month  over  eighteen,  and  ruined, 
hopelessly  ruined  I"  — 

"  Oh  I    say  not   those   bitter  words,  my 


SOIXG   TO   THE    WAR.  67 

dear  brother !  "  cried  Mary  aloud  in  the 
solitude  of  her  own  room.  "  While  there 
is  life,  there  is  surely  some  hope ! "  But 
she   read   on : 

"  My  sister,  I  passed  a  great  tempta- 
tion a  few  days  ago,  and  did  not  yield. 
Mr.  Jameson  sent  by  me  to  withdraw 
five  hundred  dollars  from  the  bank,  for 
him.  I  wanted  the  money.  I  thought 
it  all  over,  and  I  could  not  do  it.  I 
might  have  kept  it,  and  said  I  was 
robbed ;  but,  you  see,  I  can  resist.  At 
all  events,  I  am  not  a  knave  like  what 
that  would  make  me.  My  bounty-money 
I  shall  divide  with  you.  Enclosed,  please 
find  a  draft  for  two  hundred  and  fifty. 
It  is  my  last  gift  to  you.  The  rest  I 
shall  have  to  take  for  my  outfit,  and  to 
pay  my  debts  contracted  by  play. 


68  THE    RED    BRIDGE. 


"  Offer  my  thanks  to  Mr.  Jameson  for 
all  his  kindness,  and  for  his  written  con- 
sent to  my  enlisting,  which  I  obtained 
by  means  of  a  friend.  I  enclose  a  list 
of  articles  which  I  wish  you  to  send  to 
me  without  delay,  as  I  shall  not  go 
out  to  Welfield  again.  If  you  have  a 
mind  to  take  your  last  look  of  your 
brother,  you  will  find  me  at  the  South- 
street  depot,  to-morrow  afternoon,  at  half- 
past  three.  Our  company  leave  the  city 
by  the   four   o'clock   ti'ain. 

"  Yours   in   haste, 

"  William  Wutslow  " 

Many  have  been  the  sad  partings  be- 
tween hearts  knit  to  hearts  by  the  tender- 
est  ties,  before  the  departure  of  military 
companies    bound   for   the  war ;    but  few 


GOING  TO   THE   WAR.  69 


could  have  been  more  touching  than  that 
between  the  brother  and  sister  on  this 
sorrowful   occasion. 

There  are  certain  events  in  life,  which 
fall  from  the  regions  of  divine  Providence, 
upon  our  consciousness,  like  those  aero- 
lites, or  meteoric  stones,  which  come  down 
from  above,  as  a  reminder  of  the  changes 
which  are  going  forward  in  a  sphere  be- 
yond the  scope  of  our  penetration.  Cer- 
tain other  events  may  be  likened  to  that 
ominous  pause  which  invariably  precedes 
the  approaching  earthquake.  Portentous 
silence  and  gloom  !  We  know  not  then  * 
what  the  coming  moments  will  bring. 
Imagination,  ever  powerful  to  heighten 
the  possibilities  within  the  scope  of  dread, 
pictures  a  sketch  which  often  proves  of 
gi-eater  and  more  formidable  proportions 
than  the  reality. 


70  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


"When  the  long  box  brings  home  to 
us  all  that  remahis  on  earth  of  our  be- 
loved one,  who  bravely  sacrificed  his  life 
for  liberty  and  patriotism ;  or  when  the 
telegram  arrives,  announcing  that  our 
heart's  treasure  has  been  shot  and  is  to 
be  bmied  on  the  strange,  far-off  field 
of  carnage,  we  have  a  certainty,  —  sud- 
den, terrible,  astounding ;  nevertheless,  a 
certainty.  There  are  innate  capabilities 
for  grapphng  with  the  sternest  realities. 
But  the  dread,  fortuitous  circumstances, 
which  brood  over  suspense,  are  thridded 
with  a  power  which  gnaws,  little  by  little, 
till  the  very  foundations  of  the  life  are 
undermined. 

Perhaps  this  is  the  saddest  of  all  the 
sad  scenes  of  our  life,  —  this  giving  our 
beloved  ones  to  the  dread  chances,  or  we 


GOING   TO    THE   WAR.  71 


may  better  call  them  the  solemn  provi- 
dences of  a  military  "campaign,  far  away 
from  home  and  home  friends.  Who,  that 
has  ever  participated  in  this  unspeakable 
event,  cannot  say  with  an  infinite  index 
of  meaning,  "  I  knowP 

Doubly  sad  was  this  parting,  for  there 
was  lacking  the  sustaining  consciousness 
of  uprightness,  integrity,  Vv^hich,  if  pre- 
served, cancels  many,  if  not  all,  of  the 
bitterest  pangs  of  life. 

"  So  you  thought  you  would  come  to 
see  me  oif,"  said  William,  as  he  met  his 
sister  on  that  afternoon,  advancing  through 
the  crowd  at  the  depot. 

"  Nothing  but  an  insurmountable  ob- 
str.cle  v7ould  have  kept  me  away,"  replied 
Mary. 

"  Let  us  go  aside,  vv^here  we  can  remain 


72  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


by  ourselves,"  said  he,  offering  her  his 
arm.  "  We  have  but  a  short  time,  and 
then  we  part  to  see  each  other's  faces  no 
more." 

"  Say  not  so,  brother,"  said  Mary,  en- 
deavoring to  assume  a  hopefuhiess  of 
manner  which  she  could  not  feel. 

"  I  deserve  nothins:  less  after  doins:  what 
I  have  done,"  he  continued,  bitterly. 

Mary  wisely  saw  that  this  was  no  time 
for  recrimination;  if,  indeed,  this  time  ever 
comes,  and  she  strove  to  encourage  him, 
and  kindle  high  and  pure  hopes  for  the 
future. 

"  Again  and  again  have  I  resolved  to 
reform,"  he  said,  "  and  now  see  what  is 
the  result,  - —  ashes  of  hopes  ! " 

"  Bnt  as  from  the  ashes,  the  ancients 
believed  a  be:iutiful  bird    to   have   sprung, 


GOING   TO   THE   WAR.  73 


SO  from  the  waste  and  desolation  of  your 
spirit,  my  dear  William,  suffer  the  dove 
to  fly  upward,  bearing  aloft  new  aspira- 
tions and  ambitions,  in  the  name  of  Him 
who  alone  hath  power  to  forgive  and  re- 
store. Believe  me,  it  will  return  one  day 
with  the  olive-branch  in  its  mouth." 

William  shook  his  head  and  sighed. 

"  There  is  poetiy  in  your  figure,  but 
not  truth.  Iron-faced  reality  portends  an- 
other vision." 

"  Your  iron-faced  reality,  like  Janus, 
has  two  sides.  The  one  is  gloom,  the 
other  joy.  If  thou  doest  weU,  thou  shalt 
be  accepted ;  if  not,  sin  lieth  at  the  door. 
There  is  forgiveness  with  God.  The  dis- 
ciple, who  thrice  denied  his  Master,  was 
restored  to  favor.  No  one  is  so  lost,  but 
there  is  hope  for  him.      This   is  the  un- 


74  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


utterably  glorious  provision  of  the  gospel 
of  our  Lord  and  Saviour,  and  this  it  is 
which  makes  the  atoning  Name  above 
every  other  name." 

"  Mary,  I  was  born  for  woe.  I  remem- 
ber, when  we  were  children,  being  struck 
with  the  difference  between  you  and  my- 
self." His  voice  faltered  so  that  he  could 
not  go  on. 

"  Yes,  dear  brother,  I,  too,  remember 
those  days,  and  you  were  far  more  tender 
and  loving  than  I  was.  You  could  not 
bear  to  have  me  out  of  your  sight,  scarcely 
a  moment.  Father  used  to  speak  of  it  to 
our  visitors,  and  he  said  he  supposed  it 
was  because  we  had  so  early  lost  our 
mother.  He  also  said  that  you  were  like 
her  and  her  family.  William,  she  is  in  ex- 
istence now,  and,  though  I  cannot  prove  it, 
I  believe  she  watches  over  us." 


GOING   TO   THE    WAR.  75 


"  I  hope  not,"  said  William,  much  moved. 

"  To  me  the  idea  is  a  beautiful  one," 
Mary  went  on,  "  and  yet  not  half  so  pre- 
cious as  the  actual  consciousness  of  the 
truth  that  there  is  One,  who  ever  liveth  to 
make  intercession  for  us,  who  knoweth  our 
frame  and  remembereth  that  we  are  but 
dust,  and  who  for  all  our  temptations  is 
faithful  to  provide  a  way  of  escape,  if  we^ 
will  but  accept  it." 

"  There  is  no  escape  for  such  a  broken 
vow  as  1  have  on  my  soul.  I  promised 
my  life,  and  I  am  going  to  keep  that 
promise,  at  least." 

"  Dear  brother,  can  you  not  see  that 
your  idea  of  this  is  not  less  a  temptation 
to  sin  ?  Last  night,  after  I  had  read  your 
letter  for  perhaps  the  tenth  time,  I  turned 
to  the  Dictionary  of   Theology  and  found 


76  THE  EED   BRIDGE. 


that  a  vow  is  '  a  promise  made  to  God  of 
a  thing  which  we  think  to  be  agreeable  to 
him,  and  which  we  are  not,  on  other 
grounds,  obliged  to  render  to  him.'  Now 
it  is  clear  to  me,  that  it  is  not  agreeable  to 
him  that  you  should  make  such  a  rash 
vow.  Your  life  is  not  your  own,  and  you 
have  no  right  to  throw  away  what  belongs 
^to  another."  '     .' 

"  Right  or  wrong,"  said  William,  "  it  is 
the  best  thing  I  can  do.  If  I  live  to  man- 
hood, I  shall  be  good  for  nothing,  because 
I  cannot  resist  strong  drink,  and  then 
when  I  drink,  the  next  thing  is  play." 

"Hitherto,"  said  Mary,  "you  have 
tried  to  reform  in  your  own  strength, 
trusting  to  the  valor  of  your  own  indepen- 
dent will.  If  you  wiU  rely  entirely  upon 
God,  pray  often  to  him  to  keep  you  from 


GOING   TO   THE  WAR.  77 


falling,  and  watching  thereunto  with  all 
perseverance,  as  the  holy  word  teaches, 
you  may  yet  come  off  conqueror.  Oh, 
my  brother,  my  twin  spirit,  how  can  I 
give  up  that  you  will  not  be  yet  all  that 
the  high  hopes  of  my  heart  once  promised 
for  you  ?  " 

"  Did  IVIr.  Jameson,  send  me  no  mes- 
sage ?  "  now  asked  William. 

"  Have  you  not  heard  what  has  hap- 
pened to  him  ?  "     returned  Mary. 

«  No,  —  what  can  it  be  ?  " 

"  But  two  days  since,  it  came  out  that 
he  is  ruined  as  to  estate,  and  I  fear  in 
mind,  as  well." 

She  then  related  the  cu'cumstances  as 
best  she  could,  not  omitting  the  wretched 
scene  of  his  attack  of  the  delirium  tremens, 
from  which  he  had  not  yet  recovered. 

.7* 


78  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


"  What  now  is  to  become  of  you, 
Mary  ?  "     was  William's  next  question. 

"He  who  careth  for  the  sparrows,  will 
not  forget  the  poor  orphan,"  she  said 
with  quivering  lips. 

"  And  you  were  not  going  to  say  any- 
thing to  me  of  this  great  affliction  which 
has  suddenly  cut  off  all  your  prospects  ?  " 

"  I  thought  you  had  difficulty  enough 
of  your  own,"  she  added  after  a  silence  on 
both  sides. 

"  If  I  had  known  this,"  said  William,  "  I 
would  have  saved  all  my  bounty-money 
for  you.     Poor  child !  what  will  you  do  ?  " 

"  What  is  that  you  are  doing  with  your 
gun  ?  "  now  asked  Mary,  in  order  to  divert 
his  attention  from  the  painful  subject. 

"  Since  we  sat  here,  I  have  been  cutting 
your  initials  on  my  gun-stock,  that  when- 


GOING   TO   THE   WAR.  79 


ever  my  eye  falls  on  them,  I  may  think  of 
you  and  of  this  bitter  moment." 

"  I  will  imprint  a  kiss  on  them,"  she  said, 
bravely  choking  back  her  tears. 

"  And  I,  also,"  said  he,  "  that  the  deed 
may  be  strongly  sealed." 

At  this  juncture,  a  signal  was  given  to 
get  aboard  the  train,  which  would  now 
leave  in  a  few  minutes. 

The  brother  folded  all  he  had  to  love 
closely  to  his  heart,  bathed  her  brow  with 
kisses,  then  dashed  through  the  crowd  and 
left  Mary  standing  among  the  hurrying 
persons  like  one  in  a  dream. 

Suddenly  a  loud,  prolonged  noise,  like 
the  mad  yell  of  an  Indian,  smote  all  the 
air.  It  proceeded  from  a  source  so  near  to 
Mary,  who  stood  before  one  of  the  car-win- 
dows, she  sprung  like  one  who  had  been 


80  •    THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


hurt.  She  looked  about  her  hurriedly,  and 
perceived  William  at  a  window  a  few  steps 
away.     He  motioned  her  to  approach. 

"  It  is  a  drunken  man  of  our  company," 
he  said  in  a  low  tone.  "  He  has  been  using 
his  canteen  for  the  last  half  hour,  and  now 
he  is  in  such  a  state  he  hardly  knows 
enough  to  keep  on  his  seat." 

"  Dreadful !  "  exclaimed  Mary,  turning 
deathly  pale  as  the  memories  of  the  past 
floated  before  her  vision. 

Another  beastly  screech  now  escaped 
from  the  soldier,  whose  uncovered  head 
was  rolling  from  side  to  side,  while  his 
body  was  partially  supported  by  one  of  his 
companions.  His  eyes  wore  that  ex- 
pression of  maudlin  abandon  which  is  far 
more  frightful  to  behold  than  the  fixed,  cold . 
stare  of  the  corpse,  and  his  tongue  some- 


GOING   TO    THE   WAR.*  81 


times  protruded  beyond  his  open  lips,  as  he 
attempted  to  call  out  to  his  fellow  for  more 
drink. 

"  Fare — fare — we-weU — well — ell ! "  now 
screamed  the  poor  fellow,  giving  a  lunge 
forward,  and  endeavoring  to  thrust  his  di- 
shevelled head  firom  the  car-window. 

"Dearest  William!"  exclaimed  Mary, 
"look  there,"  indicating  a  poor  woman 
who  sat  back  on  a  step  of  the  platform,  with 
her  face  hidden  in  her  hands,  while  her 
sobs  convulsed  her  whole  frame  ;  "  that  is 
his  mother,  I  know  by  the  way  she  just 
looked  at  him.  What  a  parting  with  a 
son  who  leaves  her  for  the  war  !  " 

The  bell  rang. 

"  Mary,  believe  me,  from  this  moment 
I  will  try  to  be  a  different  man,  for  your 
sweet  sake  "  said  William  amid  tears. 


82  •       THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


"  Heaven  help  and  bless   you,  brother." 

Another  yell  from  the  inebriate,  the 
cars  moved  off,  and  Mary  stood  there 
for  the  first  time  fully  conscious  of  her 
desolation. 

The  sight  of  the  poor  mother  now 
reminded  Mary  that  there  were  those  who 
had  cause  for  deeper  woe  than  herself. 
Half  unconsciously  she  advanced  towards 
her,  and  said,  in  tones  of  heartfelt  sym- 
pathy, "  It   is   very  sad,   is   it   not  ? " 

"  Nobody  knows  what  real  misery  is, 
here,  as  I  do,"  replied  the  woman,  lift- 
ing her  head,  and  discovering  an  ex- 
pression of  sorrow  which  haunted  Mary's 
vision  for  weeks  after.  "  My  son,  my 
son!  would  to  God  I  could  die  for 
you ! "  she  continued,  wringing  her  hands 
convulsively.      "  And     he    was     once    so 


GOING  TO   THE   WAR.  83 


good  and  true-hearted,  —  the  pride  of 
his  widowed  mother's  heart!  Why  was 
I  born   for   such   trouble   as   this?" 

She  rose  up,  walked  away,  and  Mary 
saw   that   face   in   reality,  no   more. 

On  returning  to  Welfield,  she  said  to 
herself,  in  the  solitude  of  her  own  cham- 
ber, "  A  new  life  is  before  me.  Here- 
tofore I  have  been  a  timid,  dependent 
girl;  but  now  I  must  take  up  the  bur- 
dens of  life,  and  bear  them  onward 
alone.  My  course  in  the  future  is  all 
undefined,  but  I  will  seek  direction  from 
Him  who  turns  not  a  deaf  ear  to  the 
cry  of  the  humble  and  desolate.  I  re- 
member that  it  is  written :  *  In  all  their 
affliction,  he  was  afflicted,  and  the  angel 
of  his   presence   saved   them.' " 

While    Mr.   Jameson  remained   a   vie- 


84  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


tim  of  his  illness,  she  forbore  to  intro- 
duce the  subject  of  a  change  in  her 
intentions  to  JVIiss  Eliza.  When  he  so 
far  recovered  as  to  be  able  to  appear 
out  again,  it  was  evident  that  he  was  a 
ruined  man  in  more  senses  than  one. 
His  mind  was  no  longer  under  his  con- 
trol; for  a  few  moments  he  would  con- 
verse with  his  former  briUiancy,  but  soon 
these  flashes  of  intellectual  strength  and 
naturalness  would  be  succeeded  by  a 
childlike  simplicity,  or  even  worse,  by 
an  almost  fearful  querulousness.  Some- 
times, for  hours  he  remained  in  his  arm- 
chair upon  the  portico,  gazing  at  the 
far-off  hills  or  into  vacuity  without  ap- 
parent consciousness  if  one  approached 
and  addressed  him.  At  such  periods, 
Miss    EHza    led    him   within    the    house 


GOING  TO   THE   WAB.  85 


and  sat  by  him  till  he  fell  asleep  upon 
the   lounge. 

Before  the  close  of  summer,  the  sheriff's 
sale  took  place,  and  it  appeared  that  the 
estate  was  involved  far  more  than  it 
could  meet.  The  poor  man  would  have 
been  utterly  deprived  of  means  of  pro- 
curing a  home,  had  it  not  been  for  a 
few  thousands  which  Miss  Eliza  had  not 
entrusted  to  the  care  of  her  brother,  and 
which  now  remained  in  her  own  right, 
beyond  the  reach  of  his  creditors.  Hence- 
forth they  were  to  occupy  a  small  house 
in  Welfield,  without  any  domestics,  save 
Mrs.  Kenneth. 

Early  in  the  autumn,  Mary  took  her 
departure  for  a  distant  academy,  where 
she  purposed  to  remained  until   she  was 


86  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


fitted  to  instruct  a  common  country 
school. 

Here,  amid  new  faces  and  new  scenes, 
while  yet  the  orphan's  heart  was  very 
desolate  and  sorrowful,  the  Lord  raised 
up  a  new  and  invaluable  friend  in  the 
person  of  Mrs.  Comfort,  the  lady  with 
whom  she  boarded.  This  lady  gave  her 
the  advice,  the  encouragement,  and  the 
motherly  instruction  which  she  so  greatly 
needed.  Her  large  and  true  heart  never 
failed  Mary's  application  for  assistance. 

Once,  only,  Mary  received  a  letter  from 
her  brother.  It  was  brief  and  hurriedly 
written,  as  he  was  in  circumstances  which 
forbade  anything  more.  He  wrote  that 
he  was  well;  had,  thus  far,  been  enabled 
to  keep  his  last  resolution,  and  had  no 
intention    of    doing    less    in    the    future. 


GOING  TO   THE   WAR.  87 


They  were  to  engage  in  a  pitched  bat- 
tle on  the  following  morning.  If  he 
survived,  he  should  WTite  her  as  soon 
as  possible.  If  he  was  among  the  fallen, 
he  trusted  that  God  would  forgive  him 
and   receive   his   spu'it. 

After  a  long  and  agonizing  suspense  of 
weeks,  it  appeared  that  among  the  killed 
in  that  eno^asfement  w^as  William  Wins- 
low.  "  He  acted  very  nobly  aU  that  day,'' 
wrote  a  comrade  to  Mary,  "  and  as  he 
made  a  dashing  charge  on  the  advancing 
foe  to  save  the  life  of  his  commanding 
officer,  there  is  no  doubt  but  that  he 
would  have  been  promoted,  if  he  had 
survived." 


IV. 

|ix  tlj^  gistrict  StIj00L 

^OT  was  a  sultry  afternoon  in  early 
j^k  summer,  —  very  sultry  it  seemed  to 
'W    those   within    a   small  white   school- 

(o 

house,  standing  on  the  corner  of  a  worth- 
less acre  of  land,  which  was  passed  on 
two  sides  by  a  country  road.  There  were 
no  cool,  green  window-blinds  to  the  hap- 
less-looking building ;  nothing  but  one 
great  butternut-tree,  to  protect  it  from  the 
searching  rays  of  the  afternoon  sun.  But 
within  were  curtains  of  dark  chintz,  that 
proved  a  partial  amelioration  for  the  ex- 
cessive exposure. 

It  was  now  a  few  minutes  before   the 

(88) 


IN  THE  DISTRICT   SCHOOL.  89 


last  recess.  The  children,  generally,  were 
very  restless.  One  or  two  of  the  smaller 
ones  had  worked  themselves  out  into  a 
sound  sleep.  Tom  Harding  and  Sam 
Wilkins,  the  leaders  of  mischief,  were  so 
harassed  with  the  evil  spirit  that  abode 
within  them,  there  seemed  some  danger 
of  their  taking  on  the  capability  of  losing 
their  heads  and  reproducing  new  ones, 
like  certain  individuals  of  the  worm  tribe. 
Their  very  eyes  dilated  with  sharpened 
perception,  so  that  not  even  a  fly  flew  near 
without  active  efforts  being  put  forth  for 
its  capture  within  their  soiled  palms. 

There  was  electricity  in  the  air,  and  the 
clouds  in  the  north  and  west  were  of  that 
black-and-blue  tone  which  constitutes  the 
dark-pm-ple  of  thunder  skies.  The  sun 
drew   water,   one    of    the    children    said, 

8* 


90  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


"  whole  buckets  full."  And  as  the  human 
mind  is  supposed  to  sympathize  with  the 
state  of  the  elements,  the  restless,  discursive 
condition  of  the  children  may  be  reckoned 
as  the  natural  result  of  affairs. 

Our  friend,  Mary,  or  Miss  Winslow  as 
she  was  now  most  often  addressed,  stood 
at  the  post  as  presiding  genius  of  this 
little  community.  Her  own  spirits  par- 
tially harmonized  with  those  of  her  pupils. 
Her  best  scholar  —  the  girl  who  rarely 
failed  in  her  recitations  —  had  missed  sev- 
eral times  that  afternoon,  and  was  now  in 
her  seat  with  her  face  hidden  in  her  tear- 
stained  handkerchief. 

"  Was  there  ever  such  a  place  as  this, 
and  such  a  school ! "  exclaimed  Mary,  in 
her  thought. 

She    sighed    heavily.      Her    face    was 


IN   THE   DISTRICT   SCHOOL.  91 


flushed  with  excitement,  and  she  wore 
that  nervous,  tired  look,  which  is  seen 
upon  a  person  of  her  sensitive  organiza- 
tion when  overtasked. 

"  Here  I  am  shut  out  from  the  world 
of  intelligence  and  refinement,  with  no 
one  to  take  the  least  interest  in  me  or  my 
work,"  she  continued,  to  herself;  '-and 
it  must  be  that  God  has  forgotten  me ! " 

A  heavy  rumbling  sound  was  heard  in 
the  distance. 

"  That's  thunder,"  whispered  one  of  the 
restless  urchins  to  his  seat-mate. 

"  No,  don't  you  hear  the  wheels  ?  It's 
the  stage,"  was  the  reply. 

The  sound  increased,  and  the  advanc- 
ing coach  was  welcomed  by  a  general, 
though  half-suppressed,  sensation  among 
the  children. 


92  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


"  Teacher,"  said  one  of  the  largest  gMs, 
on  the  back  seat,  ''  the  stage  has  stop- 
ped, and  there's  a  lady  getting  out." 

"  Be  quiet,"  replied  Mary  Winslow,  yet 
there  was  a  tone  accompanying  this  in- 
junction which  beti'ayed  that  even  the 
teacher  was  not  wholly  devoid  of  inter- 
est. A  smart  rap  was  now  heard  upon 
the  outer  door. 

Miss  Winslow  walked  out,  closing  the 
inner  door  behind  her. 

"  I  guess  it's  her  sweetheart's  aunt," 
said  Tom  Harding. 

"  No,  'tis  a  spirit  come  to  pull  your 
hair,"  said  a  pert-looking  girl. 

While  similar  conversation  was  going 
on  within  the  school-room,  let  us  follow 
the  teacher  to  meet  the  visitor. 

"  Why  Mrs.  Comfort ! "  exclaimed  Mary. 
<'  If  this  is  n't  you  !  " 


IN  THE   DISTRICT   SCHOOL.  93 


"  Well,  how  does  Mary  Winslow  do  ?  " 
asked  a  quick,  cheerful  voice.  The  face 
was  lighted  with  an  irresistible  smile,  and 
bubbles  of  good  cheer  welled  up  in  the 
eyes. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you !  But 
who  would  have  thought  that  you  would 
have  taken  pains  to  have  come  here  to 
such  a  place  !  " 

"  Why  not,  child  ?  I  was  going  to  see 
my  married  daughter,  who  lives  about  a 
score  of  miles  beyond,  and  thought  I'd 
stop  over  one  day  with  you.  I  wanted 
to  see  how  you  got  along." 

"  Oh  dear !  I  have  but  a  poor  time,  I 
assure  you.  I'm  ashamed  to  ask  you  in- 
to such  a  place.  And  the  children  are 
so  rough,  —  that  is,  most  of  them." 

"  Well,    you    know    we    must    make 


94  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


the  rough   places  smooth,   when   we   find 

them." 

These     words    were     accompanied    by 

such  a  pleasant,  congenial,  hopeful   look, 

Mary  smiled  despite  herself. 

Mrs.  Comfort  now  followed  the  teacher 
into  the  inner  room,  and  took  a  chair  in 
the  desk,  while  she  looked  around  with 
a  kind  of  sunny,  but  silent  how-do-you- 
all-do-here  glance,  that  Sam  Wilkins, 
who  scorned  to  think  amiably  of  anybody 
or  anything  but  his  own  jack-knife, 
whispered,  "  That's  a  beat  of  a  woman." 
"  There's  where  your  head  is  clear,"  re- 
plied Sam  Harding. 

"  Boys,  stop  communicating  there,"  said 
Miss  Winslow,  —  "  and  attend  to  your  les- 
sons." They  took  up  their  books,  but 
their  eyes  were  not  long  off  the  face  of 
the  visitor. 


IN   THE   DISTRICT   SCHOOL.  95 


A  few  moments  later,  and  recess  was 
announced. 

"  How  nicely  they  all  go  out,"  said 
Mrs.  Comfort,  "and  some  of  them  have 
the  look  my  father  used  to  tell  about,  — 
as  though  they'd  set  a  barn  a-fire  one 
of  these  days,  for  being  so  smart."  A 
laugh  escaped,  followed  by  a  rippling 
tone  of  delight,  that  nobody,  except  a  per- 
son looking  at  the  remains  of  his  last 
hope,  could  resist. 

Inquiries  were  now  quickly  made  by 
Miss  Winslow  respecting  her  old  friends 
of  the  academy.  She  had  formerly  board- 
ed with  Mrs.  Comfort,  who  was  a  widow, 
and  had  sometimes  accommodated  a  few 
students  with  a  home. 

"  Those,  indeed,  were  happy  hours," 
commented  Mary,  with  a  deep-drawn  sigh. 


96  THE  RED   BHIDGE. 


"  Yes  ;  and  are  not  these,  also  ?  " 
"  No,  indeed !  How  can  I  take  one  mo- 
ment's peace  here  in  this  unsightly  room, 
surrounded  by  these  children,  the  majority 
of  whom  are  more  like  so  many  cubs, 
than  human  beings  !  Then,  to  crown  al!, 
they  gave  me  a  boarding-place  so  far 
away,  I  am  obliged  to  stay  here  during 
the  intermissions  at  noon.  I  bring  a  book 
every  day  with  my  dinner,  and  when  it 
is  pleasant  I  go  out  to  the  grove,  over 
yonder  there,  and  I  read.  But  when  it  is 
unpleasant  weather,  never  was  there  such 
another  place  as  is  this.  Their  yells  and 
motions  are  almost  terrific." 

"  Let's  see,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Comfort, 
"if  something  more  inviting  can't  be  got 
out  of  this  hard  shell.  We'll  break  it  to 
get  the  juice,  and  not  keep  looking  at  it, 


IN  THE  DISTRICT  SCHOOL.  97 


whole  and  hard  and  rough-rinded."  One 
of  her  own  irresistible  laughs  now  escaped, 
by  way  of  parenthesis.  "  In  the  first  place, 
1  don't  believe  in  your  reading,  of  noons, 
when  you've  been  using  your  brain  all  the 
hours  before,  and  have  got  to  do  the  same 
again  right  away." 

"  But,  really,  Mrs.  Comfort,  what  would 
you  have  me  do  ?  —  sit  listless,  and,  with 
folded  hands,  think  over  the  pleasant  scenes 
of  days  gone  by,  as  I  inevitably  must,  had 
I  not  something  like  a  book  to  take  up  my 
mind  ?  " 

"  Now,  if  I  were  you,  it  seems  to  me,  I 
should  get  up  something  that  these  noisy 
boys  and  girls  could  help  about.  I  would 
take  them  over  to  those  woods,  and  get 
some  evergreens,  and  make  wreaths  to 
hang  around  these  walls,  —  kill  two  birds 


98  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


with  one  stone,  you  know.  Come  to 
think,  it  would  be  three  or  four  birds  before 
you  got  through.  You  would  add  to  the 
beauty  of  these  walls "  (another  laugh), 
"  keep  the  children  out  of  mischief,  and  get 
health  for  yourself  Then  they  could  find 
nice  mosses  and  make  some  baskets. 
You  know  you  used  to  like  to  do  such 
things." 

"  I  don't  believe  they  would  care  to," 
said  Miss  Winslow. 

"  Yes,  I  think  they  would.  Children, 
even  the  rudest,  are  always  interested  in 
anything  that  puts  the  mechanical  to  na- 
ture. Going  out  to  gather  these  things 
would  give  vent  to  their  restless  spirits.  It 
would  quicken  your  own  vital  energies,  so 
that  you  would  soon  see  '•  sermons  in  stones, 
books  in  the  running  brooks,  and  good  in 
everything,'  —  even  this  school-house." 


IN   THE   DISTRICT   SCHOOL.  99 


Miss  Winslow  now  remembered  a  beau- 
tiful spot  in  the  edge  of  the  woods  back  of 
the  school-house,  whither  she  had  gone 
one  day,  and  likened  it  in  her  heart  to  a 
fairy  bower,  it  was  so  affluent  with  vines, 
mosses,  pensile  wild  flowers,  and  nice  old 
stones  just  fitted  for  seats. 

"  Perhaps  I  should  have  gone  out  more 
since  I  began  the  school ;  for  some  days  I 
have  stayed  in  here  from  nine  o'clock  in 
the  morning  till  half-past  four  in  the  after- 
noon," she  said. 

"  No  wonder  the  children  looked  so 
sti-ange  to  you.  I  should  have  thought  you 
would  not  have  known  yourself  when  it 
came  night.  But  after  your  supper,  I  sup- 
pose, you  took  the  air  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  thought  my  walk  home  quite 
sufficient.     I  usually  went  to  my  chamber. 


100  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


and  read  in  some  book  when  I  had  no 
sewing  to  do  or  letters  to  write.  Some- 
times I  sat  by  the  window,  and  thought 
till  the  tears  would  come  despite  myself." 

"  Now,  Mary  Winslow,"  said  Mrs.  Com- 
fort, "  there's  no  use  in  taking  life  this  way. 
You  may  just  as  well  look  at  the  bright  side 
as  the  dark  one.  I  knew  your  father  when 
he  was  a  young  man,  and  he  used  to  say 
he  would  not  give  one  cent  for  a  character 
which  had  no  obstacles  to  overcome.  I 
expect  this  summer's  work  is  going  to  do 
more  for  you  than  the  brightest,  and  what 
you  called  happiest,  seasons  of  your  life." 

It  was  now  time  to  ring  the  bell  for  the 
scholars  to  return  from  recess.  Mary 
smiled  at  the  sunny  face  of  her  frieiid,  and 

resumed  her  duties  at  a  lighter  pace.     But, 

* 

as  she  went  to  the  window  to  ring  the  bell, 


IN  THE   DISTRICT   SCHOOL.  101 


she  noticed  that  the  clouds  had  gathered 
deeper  blackness  in  the  west,  and  the 
shower  was  soon  to  be  overhead. 

"  It  is  going  to  rain  right  away,"  she 
said  to  her  visitor,  "  and  it  looks  now  as 
though  the  shower  would  be  heavy." 

*'  We  need  rain  very  much ;  it  is  so  dry. 
I  hope  we  shall  have  a  good  smart  shower. 
I  always  enjoy  it  right  well,"  returned  Mrs. 
Comfort. 

"  But  not  the  thunder  and  lightning  ?  " 

"  Certainly ;  why  not  ?  There  is  a  gran- 
deur about  these  demonstrations  of  nature, 
as  illustrations  of  God's  power,  which  ex- 
cels every  other  spectacle  but  that  of — 
teaching  school  with  a  happy,  contented 
spirit."  And  the  old  pleasant  ripple  of  the 
heart  was  heard  again.  To  §ay  that  Mrs. 
Comfort  laughed  was  the  poorest  possible 

9* 


102  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


way  of  representing  hei'  sunny  outgush  of 
feeling,  there  being  so  many  different  lan- 
guages to  that  expression.  The  mere  folly, 
the  dry  sarcasm,  the  vacant  sense  of  titilla- 
tion,  the  contagious  imitation  were  not  in 
the  spirit  of  her  laugh.  In  short,  this  wo- 
man was  like  no  other  in  this  respect. 

One  recitation  after  another  now  came 
on,  and,  ovv^ing  to  the  weather  or  some- 
thmg  else,  every  one  failed  of  meeting  the 
teacher's  expectations.  Her  mouth  fell 
down  at  the  corners,  and  her  lugubrious 
face  was  accompanied  by  such  an  anxious 
tone,  Mrs.  Comfort  thought  to  herself  that 
John  Rogers'  widow,  with  the  nine  small 
children,  could  not  have  felt  much  worse. 

The  younger  children,  on  the  front  seats, 
having  accomplished  their  last  lessons  in 
reading  and  spelling,  began  to  annoy  each 


IN  THE  DISTRICT   SCHOOL.  103 


other,  and  disturb  the  general  work  not  a 
a  little.  Miss  Winslow  had  no  heart  to 
bestow  summary  punishment  before  her 
visitor,  and  she  contented  herself  with 
sprinkling  a  few  light  rebukes  here  and 
there,  like  pepper-corns  in  a  soup. 

At  length  the  last  lesson  was  heard,  the 
hand  of  the  clock  was  on  the  point  of  four, 
and  she  declared  the  school  dismissed.  It 
had  rained  very  delightfully  for  the  last 
hour,  but  now  the  drops  ceased,  and  the 
sun  was  struggling  from  behind  the  clouds. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad ! "  exclaimed  Mary ; 
"  the  last  one  is  gone !  another  day  is  told 
off  from  this  dreary  round !  " 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Mrs.  Comfort,  as 
she  prepared  to  walk  home  with  Mary, 
"  how  much  you  lose  by  not  enjoying  your- 
self!" 


104  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


"  How  can  I,  when  there  is  so  little  to 
enjoy  ?  " 

"  You  know  I  talk  with  you  as  though 
you  were  my  own  daughter,  and  so  I  must 
tell  you  a  few  things,  —  shall  I  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  my  dear  friend ;  what  can  I 
not  bear  from  you  ?  " 

"  In  the  first  place,  you  must  take  more 
interest  in  your  scholars.  You  must  love 
them  more;  no  matter  how  uncouth,  un- 
lovely they  are,  —  remember  that  Christ, 
God's  well-beloved  Son,  died  for  every  one, 
and  that  they  are  all  stamped  with  that  aw- 
fully significant  seal,  —  immortality.  They 
are  now  forming  characters  for  the  endless 
ages.  You  are  dowered  with  that  high 
commission  from  heaven  to  help  mould 
and  fashion  these  minds.  Is  not  the  idea 
an  important  one  ?  " 


IN   THE   DISTRICT    SCHOOL.  105 


Mrs.  Comfort  lifted  her  eyes  towards 
heaven  in  silent  prayer,  as  was  her  custom 
w^hen  she  would  seek  the  blessing  of  Di- 
vine Power  upon  her  words. 

Miss  Win  slow  was  silent.  The  lady 
continued,  — 

"  Love  is  the  great  counter-current  for  all 
the  electricity  of  evil.  When  your  pupils 
recite,  you  must  look  at  them  with  a  kind 
of  a  loving  interest,  as  though  you  expected 
they  were  going  to  say  the  right  thing  with 
a  little  of  your  encouragement.  If  you 
look  at  them  doubtfully  or  with  an  uncon- 
genial condemnation,  they  \Yiil  easily  keep 
on  the  plane  where  you  put  them,  which  is 
disHke  both  to  thek  tasks  and  to  yourself." 

"  But  those  younger  children,  —  what 
kind  of  electricity  will  hit  them  success- 
fuUy?" 


106  THE  KED   BRIDGE. 


"  Let  them  have  something  to  do  when 
they  have  finished  their  little  tasks.  Get 
their  parents  to  procure  them  some  slates 
and  pencils,  and  set  them  to  writing  and 
drawing.  To  require  them  to  keep  still  is 
little  short  of  cruelty." 

"  Perhaps  it  is ;  but  I  had  not  thought 
of  it  in  this  way  before,"  Mary  returned. 

"  You  must  seek  to  be  cheerful,"  .con- 
tinued Mrs.  Comfort,  "  and  then  everything 
will  look  differently  to  you.  We  can  make 
life  whatever  we  wiU.  If  you  look  so  un- 
reconciled, you  will  hinder  your  own  suc- 
cess in  life." 

"  Do  I  look  unreconciled  ?  I  did  not 
know  it.  I  don't  think  I  am  in  the  habit 
of  looking  so." 

"  I  am  not  sure  of  that,  though  you  did 
not  use  to  formerly,  I  well  remember.     But 


m   THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL.  107 


I  heard  a  gentleman  speak  of  you  in  the 
coach  this  afternoon  as  we  were  riding  from 
the  city,  in  such  a  way  as  to  induce  me,  in 
addition  to  my  own 'observation,  to  form 
this  opinion." 

"  A  gentleman  speak  of  me  ?  "Who  was 
it  ?     And  what  did  he  say  ?  " 

Miss  Winslow's  curiosity  was  fairly 
aroused. 

"  I  could  not  have  told  you,  except  to 
prove  the  truth  of  what  I  have  said,  —  and 
all  for  your  good,  my  dear  child." 

"  Certainly  ;  but  do  tell  me." 

"  There  were  five  of  us  passengers,  when 

we  left  N .     Three  of  these  stopped  at 

the  centre  of  this  town.  They  seemed  ac- 
quainted and  commenced  immediately  to 
converse  together.  As  I  had  nothing  better 
to  do,  I  listened.     One  of  them,  it  appeared, 


108  THE   BED    BRIDGE. 


was  a  member  of  the  School  Committee, 
and  he  was  questioned  respecting  the 
schools.  Among  the  new  teachers  who 
had  recently  come  into  town,  your  name 
was  mentioned.  This  young  man  said 
that  Miss  Winslow  might  make  a  very 
good  teacher  were  it  not  for  one  thing." 

"  What  was  that?  "  asked  Mary,  quickly,  " 
as  Mi's.  Comfort  hesitated. 

"  The  queer  part  of  it  was,  at  this  very 
moment  when  my  heart  was  on  tiptoe  to 
hear  the  criticism,  the  driver  called  out  to 
one  of  the  passengers  to  know  if  she  would 
stop  at  the  house  where  we  then  were. 
This  put  a  period  to  the  conversation.  The 
passenger  stepped  out,  and  the  second  one 
of  this  party  which  had  been  conversing 
said  he  guessed  he  would  not  ride  any  fur- 
ther, as  he  had  to  stop  at  a  store  but  a  little 
further  ahead.     So  this  broke  it  all  up." 


IN   THE   DISTRICT   SCHOOL.  109 


But  I  was  not  to  be  baffled  in  this  way, 
for  I  wanted  to  know  what  that  one  thing 
was,  that  I  might  help  you  out  of  it  if  I 
could.  I  knew  it  would  not  do  to  tell  him 
that  I  was  acquainted  with  you,  so  I  mere- 
ly said,  — 

"  A  teacher's  life  is  a  difficult  one,  sir; 
and  excuse  me  if  I  say  it  is  easier  for  the 
committee-men  to  see  faults  than  to  rectify 
them  so  as  to  be  wholly  free  themselves, 
when  they  chance  to  teach." 

"  Oh,  yes,  madam,"  he  replied  ;  "  the  lady 
teacher  to  whom  I  just  alluded  is  evidently 
well  qualified.  In  fact,  I  should  say  she  is 
a  superior  girl." 

"  But  what  then  is  the  matter  ?  I  have 
several  friends  who  teach  school,  and  I  am 
interested  to  know  for  their  sakes,  —  for  the 
sake  of  one  young  friend  in  particular." 

10 


110  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


"  Do  you  reside  in  this  vicinity  ?  "  he  now 
asked. 

"  No  ;  my  home  is  in  another  county,  — 
quite  a  distance  from  here.  I  was  never 
through  this  country  before,"  I  said. 

"  Well,  then,  madam,  if  my  opinion  is 
worth  anything,  it  is  this;  no  one  should 
so  disrelish  his  or  her  employment,  as  not  to 
work  with  a  determination  to  get  the  most 
happiness  out  of  it  possible.  In  order  to 
that,  they  must  make  up  their  mind  it 
is  just  the  place  God  designs  them  then 
and  there  to  fill.  It  is  a  great  thing  for  a 
teacher,  or  any  leader  of  other  minds,  to  be 
cheerful.  In  fact,  it  is  more  than  half  the 
conquest." 

"  But  does  not  this  Miss  Winslow  seem 
cheerful  in  her  school  ?  "  I  asked,  as  uncon- 
cernedly as  I  could. 


IN   THE   DISTRICT    SCHOOL.  Ill 


"  She  is  not  cross,  but  ill  at  ease,"  he 
said. 

"  Perhaps  she  is  bashful,  especially  in 
your  presence,"  I  continued. 

"  I  think  not ;  she  is  too  proud  for  that. 
A  fine  girl,  but  out  of  her  element." 

He  bowed  and  descended  from  the  coach, 
which  had  stopped  before  a  building,  on 
which  I  read,  "  Henry  Alton,  Counsellor  at 
Law." 

"  Was  that  Esquire  Alton  ?  "  exclaimed 
Mary,  while  a  warm  blush  overspread  her 
face  and  her  eyes  suffused  with  tears. 

"  I  did  not  intend  to  wound  you,  my 
dear ;  but  I  thought  it  might  be  a  bene- 
fit to  you  to  know  what  a  committee- 
man  said." 

"  I  would  not  have  chosen  to  have 
made  such  an  impression  on   him,"    said 


112  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


Mary,  trying  hard  to  keep  down  her 
emotion. 

"  Is  he  married  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Comfort. 

"  No ;  but  I  don't  care  anything  about 
that." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Mrs.  Comfort, 
drily. 

"  He  is  one  of  the  most  influential 
men  in  town,  and  perhaps  the  best  edu- 
cated." 

"  And  a  real  gentleman,"  added  Mrs. 
Comfort,  "  as  I  saw  by  the  way  he  helped 
to  make  me  comfortable  in  the  coach." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mary,  "  he  was  very  con- 
siderate when  he  came  into  my  school 
the  other  day,  though,  it  seems,  he  had 
a  poor   opinion   of  me,  all   the  while." 

"  Oh,  no ;  it  is  only  for  the  good  of 
teachers  that  he  said  all  that,"  said  Mrs. 
Comfort,  smiling. 


IN   THE   DISTRICT    SCHOOL.  113 


They  had  now  reached  Mary's  board- 
ing-place, —  a  fortunate  occurrence,  as  it 
seemed  that  Mary  could  not  much  longer 
have  preserved  her  self-control. 

Mrs.  Comfort  took  everything  as  a 
matter  of  course  which  she  found  at  the 
common-looking  farm-house ;  her  cheery 
way  won  all  hearts  at  once.  Even 
Mary  wondered  that  she  could  ever 
have  thought  the  place  so  uncomfort- 
able. Mrs.  Comfort  spent  the  evening 
in  telling  all  the  pleasant  news  of  which 
she  could  think  to  her  young  Mend,  be- 
sides dropping,  here  and  there,  a  prac- 
tical hint  of  much  value.  Mary  awoke 
in  the  morning  to  find  her  Mend  up 
betimes,  already  dressed,  and  reading  from 
the  pocket-Bible  she  generally  carried  in 
her   capacious   pocket.     And  when,   after- 

10* 


114  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


wards,  she  poured  out  of  the  abundance 
of  her  soul  her  prayer  to  God,  Mary 
said  to  herself,  "  This  is  the  secret  of 
her  content ;  for  *  He  giveth  the  oil  of 
joy  for  mourning,  the  garment  of  praise 
for  the  spirit  of  heaviness.' " 

She  resolved  to  be  more  fervent  in 
prayer,  in  future,  that  her  spirit  might 
be  sustained,  and  delivered  from  its 
bondage   of  unrest. 

"  Now,  Mary,"  said  Mrs.  Comfort,  when 
she  was  about  to  leave  her,  to  resume 
her  journey,  that  morning,  "  promise  me 
that  you  will  try,  hereafter,  to  look  on 
the  best  side  of  all  things,  and  to  love 
everybody." 

"  I  will  make  the  effort,"  Teturned  Mary ; 
"that  is,  I  will  try  to  like  all  but  the 
legal   committee-man." 


IN   THE   DISTRICT    SCHOOL.  115 


"  Oh,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Comfort,  "  you 
mean  just  the  contrary ;  I  have  seen  girls 
before." 

But,  after  the  departure  of  her  friend, 
Mary  thought  much  of  what  had  been 
said  to  her.  This  proved  one  of  the 
way-marks  of  her  life.  She  v^as  wise 
to  resolve  on  a  change.  Perhaps  this 
good  resolution  resulted  not  a  little  from 
Mrs.  Comfort's  prayers  for  her  friend,  for 
she  ceased  not  to  remember  her  before 
God,  when  she  had  passed  on  to  new 
scenes  and  new  faces. 

About  three  weeks  later,  Mrs.  Comfort 
received  the  following  letter  from  Mary 
Winslow ;  — 

"  Dear   Mrs.   Comfort  :  — 

"  If  you   had   dropped   in   upon  me  in 


116  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


the  old  school-house  a  few  days  after  you 
left,  you  would  have  found  a  very  different 
place  from  what  it  was  the  day  you  were 
with  us.  First,  I  had  it  swept  and  gar- 
nished, giving  the  pupils  several  familiar 
exhortations  upon  the  importance  of  a 
fine  appearance  of  our  house,  and  sum- 
ming up  with  an  invitation  to  accompany 
me,  at  noon,  in  search  for  something  rare 
and  beautiful  for  its  adorning.  They 
looked  upon  me  in  astonishment,  seem- 
ing hardly  to  credit  their  own  ears.  I 
suppose  I  had,  hitherto,  seemed  very  in- 
different to  them,  out  of  school,  —  and, 
possibly,  too  much  so  when  in  my  usual 
round  of  duties.  Every  child  of  them 
was  on  the  alert  to  help  forward  the  en- 
terprise, and  those  who  had  given  me 
most  trouble  in  school,  now  proved  them- 
selves the  most  useful. 


IN   THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL.  117 


"  We  found  beautiful  evergreens  which 
ran  along  the  ground,  for  rods  and  rods. 
Then  there  were  bitter-sweet  and  life-ever- 
lasting, which  we  made  into  wreaths  that 
will  keep  for  months.  When  I  found  how 
pretty  these  were,  I  devised  the  getting-up 
of  a  motto,  which  we  could  not  complete 
for  several  noons.  At  last,  we  had  it  hung 
up  over  my  desk,  du*ectly  opposite  the 
door,  —  '  Godliness  with  Contentment  is 
great  gain.'  I  think  of  the  spirit  of  these 
beautiful  words  many  times  every  day, 
and  it  does  me  good.  Some  of  the  older 
girls  who  know  how  to  make  moss-baskets, 
have  made  several  for  me.  One  of  these  I 
keep  on  the  desk.  They  fill  it  with  fresh 
flowers  every  morning. 

"  In  addition  to  these  natural  graces,  ] 
have  introduced  quite  a  number  of  new  and 


118  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


interesting  exercises,  in  which  they  engage 
just  before  recess  or  the  close  of  school. 
These  are  geographical,  mathematical,  and 
orthographical.  We  have  some  very  amus- 
ing times,  I  assure  you. 

"  The  old  school-house  was  looking  just 
its  freshest  and  best,  when  who  should  ap- 
pear, to-day,  but  Esquire  Alton,  for  an  offi- 
cial visit  of  inspection.  I  was  secretly  glad 
to  see  that  notwithstanding  his  eyes  have 
rested  upon  the  grand,  old  scenes  of  foreign 
travel,  he  gave  a  slight  start  of  satisfaction, 
as  he  first  took  in  our  homely,  unpretending 
little  adornings.  He  sat  down  quite  with 
the  air  of  the  man  who  feels  he  has  got 
into  an  endurable  place.  And  what  was 
yet  more  gi'atifying,  my  pupils  profited  by 
some  of  my  recent  lessons  on  behavior,  so 
that  they  contributed  not  a  little  to  the  good 


IN   THE   DISTRICT   SCHOOL.  119 


appearance.  As  I  had  '  watched '  the 
night  before  (of  which  I  will  tell  you  as 
soon  as  I  come  to  it),  I  made  but  a  very 
poor  spectacle  myself.  I  was  stupid  and 
anything  but  that  cheerful  angel  which  he 
pictured  to  you,  as  his  beau-ideal  of  a 
school-teacher.  I  felt  his  keen  eyes  resting 
upon  me  occasionally,  and  colored  tiU  my 
face  must  have  glowed  like  a  red  holly- 
hock. The  more  I  tried  to  be  indifferent 
and  independent,  the  less  I  succeeded,  and 
I  was  ready  to  escape  with  vexation 
through  the  hole  for  the  funnel  in  the  ceil- 
ing, when  he  announced  that  he  would 
like  to  address  the  school  for  a  few  mo- 
ments before  his  departure. 

"  He  said  several  complimentary  things,  I 
believe,  about  the  school  and  its  teacher; 
but  I  did  not  care  much  about  them  after 


120  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 

what  I  knew  he  thought  of  me ;  and  I  think 
he  was  a  little  surprised  that  I  showed  no 
more  consciousness  of  such  a  high  opinion 
from  a  rare  individual  lilvC  himself.  I  sup- 
pose you  would  chide  me  for  these  words, 
if  you  were  here. 

"  Last  night,  Sam  Willdns'  mother  rode 
over  to  ask  me  to  go  and  see  her  sick  boy. 
Sam  has  been  very  sick  for  a  number  of 
days,  and  as  he  had  been  doing  well  recent- 
ly, I  missed  him  very  much.  I  hesitated  to 
go.  She  had  come  in  an  old,  rickety 
chaise,  with  a  strange-looking  horse,  and 
she  was  vastly  queer  herself ;  but  I  remem- 
bered what  you  told  me  about  making  the 
best  of  all  things  and  loving  everybody,  so 
I  went.  When  I  got  there,  the  boy  was 
evidently  glad,  but  he  said- little.  I  read  a 
chapter  in  the  Bible  and  talked  with  him 


IN   THE   DISTRICT    SCHOOL.  121 


about  being  prepared  for  heaven.  He  lis- 
tened, and  finally  asked  me  what  he  should 
do  to  be  good  and  fit  to  go  to  heaven.  I 
told  him  as  best  I  could,  though  I  wished, 
Mrs.  Comfort,  you  had  been  in  my  place  by 
the  side  of  that  sick-bed. 

"  After  a  while  I  spoke  to  Mrs.  Wilkins 
about  going  back ;  but  she  said  she  could  not 
carry  me  till  morning,  and  I  must  stay  all 
night.  I  believe  I  should  have  felt  very  un- 
reconciled to  this  arrangement,  as  it  was  the 
poorest  house  I  was  ever  in,  if  I  had  not  re- 
membered your  parting  words.  I  conclud- 
ed I  could  sit  up  with  the  poor  boy  part 
of  the  night,  that  his  mother  might  get 
some  rest.  She  was  very  grateful,  for  she 
had  not  found  opportunity  to  sleep  only  in 
her  chair  for  some  time.  The  old  house- 
clock  ticked  heavily.  The  boy's  breathing 
11 


122  THE    RED    BRIDGE. 


was  loud  and  troubled ;  else  all  was  silent. 
I  should  have  been  frightened,  all  unused 
as  I  am  to  such  scenes,  had  I  not  recalled 
that  my  dear  heavenly  Father  had  prom- 
ised to  shield  all  those  who  trust  in  him. 
It  was  well  I  thought  of  this,  for  about  the 
time  the  clock  struck  twelve,  I  heard  the 
sound  of  steps,  as  of  some  one  walking 
down  the  garret-stairs  and  then  approach- 
ing the  room  where  I  was.  The  door  was 
ajar,  and  the  light  which  had  been  kept  in 
the  kitchen,  burned  just  sufficiently  for  me 
to  faintly  discern  objects.  I  confess  that  I 
felt  a  desire  to  be  elsewhere  at  that  minute. 
Slowly  advanced  the  uncertain  sounds,  till 
the  door  was  opened  wide,  discovering  a 
figure  wrapped  in  a  large,  white  covering 
like  a  sheet.  I  saw  the  strange,  pale  face 
of  a  man,  with  wild  eyes  fastened  on  mine. 


IN   THE   DISTRICT    SCHOOL.  123 


My  first  impulse  was  to  escape ;  but  I  felt 
that  would  avail  nothing,  for  there  was  no 
other  door  save  the  one  in  which  this  person 
stood. 

"  '  Young  woman,'  spoke  a  voice,  slow 
and  hollow,  *  the  child  will  die.  He  is 
even  now  struck  with  the  fatal  arrow.' 

"  I  was  uncertain  what  to  do  in  my 
great  fright,  when  I  heard  the  voice  of  Mrs. 
Wilkins  from  the  bedroom  across  the 
kitchen  :  '  John  I  what  do  you  come 
down  this  time  of  night  for  ?  Go  back  to 
bed,  will  you  ?  ' 

" '  No,  I  have  come  to  see  my  child.'  He 
emphasized  the  word  ^  my '  as  if  his  right 
would  be  questioned.  Mrs.  Wilkins  had 
now  reached  the  room,  also.  I  was  glad 
for  this,  I  cannot  describe  to  you  how 
greatly. 


124  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


"  He  went  to  the  bed,  looked  at  the 
sleeping  boy  for  a  tune,  silently,  then  he 
covered  his  eyes  with  his  hands  and  cried 
bitterly. 

"  '  The  boy  was  the  only  one  who  cared 
for  the  poor  drunkard,'  he  said,  turning 
towards  me. 

" '  Don't  trouble  her  with  your  talk,' 
said  ]Mrs.  Wilkins,  evidently  much  morti- 
fied to  have  me  make  this  encounter  with 
her  husband.  Sam  now  turned  in  the  bed, 
breathed  softly,  and  opened  his  eyes.  He 
saw  his  father,  his  mother,  and  myself,  as 
one  who  has  just  awoke  to  a  pleasant  but 
strange  discovery.  '  I  have  had  such  a 
great  dream,'  he  said,  in  a  voice  very  un- 
like his  own  I  had  so  often  heard  at  school. 
I  can't  tell  it  all,  though  I  never  shall  forget 
if.     '  I  thought  I  was  in  a  wide  and  open 


IN   THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL.  125 


place  like  the  Smith-pasture.  It  was  all  so 
green,  and  yet  so  bright  as  though  the  sun 
shone,  softly  like,  while  it  rained  great 
drops  of  crystals  and  gold,  and  purple  stars. 
I  laid  down  right  beside  the  w^ater,  which 
w^ent  along  through  the  place  like  a  clear 
brook,  and  I  looked  down  into  the  water, 
and  I  saw,  just  as  plain  as  day,  myself  with 
two  beautiful  things  like  wings.  I  was  so 
glad  in  my  sleep,  I  went  right  to  saying, 
"  Now  I  lay  me  "  just  as  I  do  before  I  go 
to  sleep.  Pretty  soon  I  saw  coming  tow- 
ards my  shadow  there  in  the  water,  a  man 
I  took  to  be  you,  father,  and  I  said,  '  He  is 
clothed  and  in  his  right  mind,'  which  was 
what  Miss  Winslow  read  to  me  out  of 
the  Bible,  before  I  dropped  off  to  sleep.  I 
laughed  right  out,  and  I  clapped  my  hands 
for  joy.  "  It  will  surely  be,"  somebody  seem- 


126  THE    RED    BRIDGE. 

ed  to  say  to  me,  "  but  pray."  '  Now,  father, 
continued  the  boy,  '  I  feel  I  am  going  to 
die  before  long.  I  asked  God  to  forgive 
my  sins  to-night,  when  Miss  Winslow  had 
done  talking  to  me,  and  he  did  forgive  me, 
I  know,  because  I  feel  so  calm-like  and 
so  happy.  I  want  you  to  kneel  down 
here,  right  by  my  bed,  while  I  pray  for 
you  and  mother.  Oh,  yes,  ^^pray  "  is  the 
sweet  w^ord  I  heard  so  clear  in  my  drearii. 
Was  ever  word  like  that,  as  it  sounded 
then  to  me ! ' 

"  We  were  all  much  moved.  The  poor 
man  sobbed  like  a  child,  but  he  stirred  not. 
Mrs.  Wilkins  was  almost  prone  on  the 
mat  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  groaning  aloud. 
'  Father,  you  remember  when  I  saved  you 
from  drowning  down  in  the  meadow, 
that  you  promised  to  do  some  great  thing 


IX   THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL.  127 


for  me  some  day.  I  claim  that  now.  I 
ask  you  to  kneel  down  and  call  upon  God 
for  mercy,'  continued  the  boy.  Still  he 
moved  not.  " '  I  have  not  long  to  ask 
anything  of  you,'  — 

"  '  I  will,  Sam,  —  yes,  I  will.  Do  you 
hear  ?  I  will  kneel,'  now  spoke  the  father, 
falling  helplessly  beside  the  bed,  while 
Samuel  laid  his  hand  upon  that  of  his 
father. 

"  '  O  thou  dear  Father  in  heaven,  dear 
Jesus,  who  died  to  save  sinners,  be  so  kind 
as  to  come  here  now,  and  cause  my  poor 
father  to  see  how  bad  it  is  to  drink  and 
have  a  wrong  mind  to  do  things  that  al- 
most break  my  mother's  heart.  Make  him 
like  the  father  I  saw  in  my  sleep,  all  fair 
and  good  and  clean.  Let  him  be  so 
changed  that,  when  he  dies,  he  will  come 


128  THE   RED    EKIDGE. 


where  I  expect  to  be.  For  I  shall  soon 
go  to  that  beautiful  land  where  the  sun 
shines  through  the  showers  of  purple  light, 
and  the  waters  run  on  and  on,  between 
the  softest  banks  of  gi-een  and  many- 
colored  wreaths,  and  such  flowers  !  Oh,  I 
am  glad  I  am  going  there  so  soon ! ' 

"  His  voice  wandered  into  inarticulate, 
broken  murmurs. 

"  Mrs.  Comfort,  never  can  I  forget  that 
hour !  I  would  write  you  more  about  it ; 
but  my  watch  warns  me  that  it  is  time  I 
prepared  to  go  to  school. 

"  Evening. 

a  My  good,  far-off  friend,  I  cannot  fold 
up  this  already  long  letter  without  tell- 
ing you  that  I  have  lived  to  number  one 
pupil  in  heaven.  I  heard  the  bell  toll 
this  morning  just  as  I  got  to  the  school- 


IN    THE   DISTRICT    SCHOOL.  129 


house.  We  all  stopped  to  count  the  age. 
It  struck  fourteen  times.  We  knew,  then, 
who  it  was.  Every  voice  was  subdued, 
and  a  sad,  solemn  look  was  on  all  the 
young  faces.  Soon  after,  a  man  rode 
along,  who  had  just  come  from  the  Wil- 
kins'  house,  and  he  said  that  Sam  died 
early  that  morning.  It  was  just  two 
mornings  from  the  one  I  left  Mm,  when  he 
had  said,  '  Good-by,  teacher.  I  thank  you 
for  all  your  kind,  good  words ;  but  please 
pray  for  my  poor  father.' 

"  I  am  very  grateful  to  you,  Mrs.  Com 
fort,  that  you  showed  me  the  more  excel- 
lent way,  in  which,  I  humbly  trust,  I  am 
now  walking  to  my  peace  and  profit. 
"  Your  affectionate 

"  Mary  Winslow." 


130  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


Mrs.  Comfort's  reply  :  — 

"  Dear    Mary,— 

As  I  never  taught  school  myself,  you 
must  not  expect  me  to  write  letters  like  a 
practised  hand.  I  don't  believe  m  apolo- 
gies, though,  so  I  will  write  what  I  have 
to  write  without  navigating  around  Robin 
Hood's  barn,  as  my  father  used  to  say. 

"  You  did  very  well  with  your  poor  sick 
and  dying  boy,  but  acted  foolishly  with 
the  young  committee-man.  But,  if  he  is 
as  wise  as  every  man  ought  to  be,  he 
will  understand  that  a  young  girl's  ways, 
like  folks'  dreams,  go  by  contraries.  At 
least,  they  used  to  when  I  was  young ;  but 
now-a-days,  around  where  I  am  at  the 
academy,  girls  are  so  forward  that  they 
seem  to  think  the  more  they  act  right  out 


IN   THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL.  131 


before  the  young  gentlemen,  the  smarter 
they  are.  You  didn't  use  to  be  so  here-,  I 
well  remember  ;  and  that's  one  reason  why 
I  took  such  an  interest  in  you,  from  that 
time  to  this.  There  were  some  others,  too, 
of  your  sort ;  but  I  fear  they  are  getting 
precious  fewer  and  fewer  every  year. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  have  got  too  much  of 
what  my  father  used  to  call  myhighgilius 
(strange  for  pride)  to  get  along  just  right 
in  life.  Now,  Mary,  you  must  take  these 
plain  words  from  your  old  and  true  friend, 
as  you  ever  have  my  advice  to  you.  I  re- 
member the  day  that  you  first  came  to 
live  under  my  roof,  and  what  I  thought  of 
you  then.  '  She  is  just  about  right,  with 
a  few  exceptions,'  I  said  to  my  daughter. 
You  had  seen  sorrow,  I  knew  from  your 
general    appearance ;    but,   as    you    were 


132  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


young,  this  in  time  would  pass  away. 
But  not  so  soon  would  pass  away  from 
your  manner,  a  certain  incomeatible  hedge- 
row, as  my  father  used  to  call  it,  which 
showed  that,  somewhere  behind  that,  you 
had  a  pretty  good  share  of  independence. 
And  this,  in  part,  serves  you  well.  You 
were  much  beloved  here  by  those  who 
knew  you,  except  those  who  knew  just 
enough  to  envy  your  gifts.  Never  mind 
them,  however,  for  such  people  must  ap- 
pear at  every  turn  of  this  world ;  and  be 
consoled  with  the  thought  that  '  envy 
never  runs  down  hill.'  If  you  could  get 
along  without  any  such  times,  you  mighi 
know  you  weren't  of  much  account,  any- 
way. 

"  In  order  to  be  happy  under  all  circum- 
stances, we  must  be  as  straightforward  as 


IN   THE   DISTRICT    SCHOOL.  133 


posfeible.  I  know  what  I  want  to  say,  but 
I  cannot  express  it  to  you  as  I  would. 
That  is,  when  the  young  lawyer  came  in 
there  to  see  you  and  the  school,  you  should 
have  silently  lifted  your  heart  to  heaven  for 
wisdom,  and  then  gone  right  on  as  calm 
as  a  gentle  brook  through  the  meadow. 
'  Flurry  and  fustigation,'  my  father  used  to 
say,  '  come  right  from  the  spirit  of  evil ;  but 
an  even  try-to-do-your-duty  sort  of  way, 
is  from  the  Lord.'  Throw  away  your  own 
will,  and  you  can  see  clear  that  you  are 
helped  by  the  Mighty  One,  and  helped,  too, 
in  a  way  that  needs  no  repair  nor  going 
over. 

"  You  do  well  to  pray  much,  and  pray 
also  for  others.  The  Lord  turned  Job's 
captivity  when  he  prayed  for  his  friends. 
Seek  to  say  an  encouraging  word,  as  often 

12 


134  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


as  you  can,  to  that  poor  man  who  wishes 
now  to  lead  a  new  and  better  life.  It  will 
cost  you  some  effort,  I  know;  but  to  do 
good,  and  to  communicate,  forget  not;  for 
with  such  sacrifices^  God  is  well  pleased. 

"  Before  I  close,  you  must  suffer  a  word 
of  caution  from  Hannah  Comfort.  It  is 
this :  don't  try  to  do  too  much  with  your 
scholars  all  at  once.  If  you  do,  they  will 
get  disgusted,  and  return  to  some  of  their 
old  habits  of  rebelhon.  You  know  how 
the  ants  build  their  heap,  —  little  by  little, 
—  and  they  are  paragons  of  wisdom.  We 
are  in  danger  of  going  to  extremes  in 
everything. 

"  Young  plants  require  a  gentle  water- 
ing once  or  twice  a  day;  they  cannot  stand 
a  deluge.     '  A  word  to  the  wise,'  etc. 


m  THE   DISTRICT  SCHOOL.  135 


"  In  great  haste,  as  I  have  forty-eleven 
things  to  do  to-day, 

"  Yours  truly, 

"  H.  Comfort." 


V. 

(^f  HE  day  came  for  the  funeral  over  the 
^^  earthly  remains  of  Samuel  Wilkins. 
^  It  was  agreed  that  the  school-house 
should  be  closed  that  afternoon,  and  the 
teacher,  with  all  the  pupils,  should  attend 
together  as  mourners. 

At  the  first  thought  of  this.  Miss  Wins- 
low  refused  in  her  heart.  From  a  child 
she  had  shrank  from  attending  these  sol- 
emn rites,  having  cherished  nervous  and 
false  notions  of  the  dead ;  but  now  to  go 
there  before  all  the  neighbors,  in  her  of- 
ficial capacity,  on  such  an  uncongenial 
occasion,  was   more  than   she  well   knew 

(136) 


IMPRESSIONS   BY   THE    WAY.  137 


how  to  do.  "  If  Mrs.  Comfort  were  only 
here  in  my  place ! "  she  reflected. 

But  no  friend  was  near  to  bear  her 
burden.  She  was  now  the  head  of  a 
school  in  a  large  district,  and,  as  such,  new 
responsibilities  stood  ever  before  her  to 
hedge  up  her  pathway. 

"  If  I  go  to  the  funeral,  what  good  will 
it  do  ?  Besides,  it  wiU  greatly  harm  myself, 
for  I  shall  see  the  livid  form  for  days  to 
come,"  she  continued  to  revolve  in  her 
mind.  In  her  vexation  of  spirit,  she  fell 
upon  her  knees  in  prayer,  and  then  after- 
wards opened  the  Bible  for  a  divine  les- 
son to  her  soul.  She  read  :  "  For  the 
administration  of  this  service  not  only 
supplieth  the  want  of  the  saints,  but  is 
abundant,  also,  by  many  thanksgivings 
unto  God.     While,  by  the  experiment  of 

12* 


138  THE   RED   BEIDGE. 


this  ministration,  they  glorify  God  for 
your  professed  subjection  unto  the  gospel 
of  Christ,  and  for  your  liberal  distribution 
unto  them,  and  unto  all  men."  2  Cor. 
9 :  12,  13. 

It  was  then  applied  to  her  soul,  that, 
if  she  performed  this  service,  she  not  only 
did  what  was  acceptable  to  God,  as  a 
Christian,  but  gave  cause  for  much  hap- 
piness in  her  own  soul.  Many  thanks- 
givings would  result  for  this  subjection 
unto  her  duty  to  others  and  to  herself. 

"  God  is  able  to  carry  me  peacefully 
over  all  thorny  or  hilly  paths,"  she  con- 
cluded ;  and,  dismissing  her  fears,  she  went 
about  her  duties  with  a  comparatively 
cheerful  spirit. 

To  one  differently  reared,  this  indeed 
would   have    been   no   cross  ;    but    Mary 


IMPRESSIONS   BY   THE   WAY.  139 


Winslow  was  the  child  of  delicate  and 
peculiar  nurture  ;  still,  without  the  expe- 
rience of  years  and  varied  observation ; 
and,  withal,  endowed  with  that  exqui- 
sitely imaginative  temperament,  which,  if 
not  properly  trained,  becomes  a  fruitful 
source  of  misery.  For  her  life,  in  its 
most  ordinary  phases,  had  four-fold  more 
meaning  and  index  than  for  many  others. 
She  enjoyed,  she  suffered,  she  hoped,  she 
feared,  with  an  intensity  of  which  another, 
differently  constituted,  would  have  never 
dreamed. 

On  that  still  summer  afternoon,  accom- 
panied by  a  score  or  more  of  her  pupils, 
she  neared  the  old  brown  house,  just  be- 
hind the  grove  of  beeches,  with  a  feeling 
of  awe  too  deep  for  words. 

"  There's  his  dinner-basket  hanging  on 


140  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


the  old  cherry-tree,"  said  Tom  Harding, 
with  a  tone  a  little  more  subdued  than 
usual.  "  I  guess  the  last  thing  he  ever 
did,  out-doors,  was  to  try  after  the 
cherries." 

•  "  Yes,"  said  one  of  the  girls,  "  his 
mother  said  his  head  ached  so  that  he 
had  to  hurry  down  off  the  tree  to  keep 
from  falling,  that  afternoon  he  was  taken 
sick." 

"  It 's  dreadful  to  think  of,"  said  an- 
other. 

"  I  don't  think  it  is,"  replied  a  thought- 
ful girl ;  "  he's  gone  now  where  he  '11  get 
things  better  than  cherries,  without  climb- 
ing trees  after  them." 

"  The  best  of  all  is,  he  wont  have  to 
study  any  more,"  said  Tom  Harding ;  "  I 
wish  I  knew,  though,  just  what  he's  do- 
ing this  minute." 


IMPRESSIONS   BY  THE   WAY.  141 


"  Singing,  of  course,  if  he's  gone  up  to 
heaven,"  said  a  little  girl. 

"  That  would  be  hard  work  for  me,  for 
I  never  could  steer  straight  through  Old 
Hundred,"  said  Tom. 

"  Why,  do  you  think  such  a  boy  as 
you  are  would  go  to  heaven  !  "  exclaimed 
another. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  said  Tom,  more  soberly. 

"  You  swear,  and  you  tell  lies,  and  "  — 

"  Hush !  "  said  Miss  Winslow,  in  a  low 
voice,  "  we  are  getting  so  near  v\^e  shall 
be  heard  by  the  people  around  the  house." 

"  Depend  upon  it,"  whispered  the  girl 
to  Tom,  "  if  you  die,  unless  you  become 
a  different  boy,  you'll  have  no  chance  to 
sing  or  do  anything  else  that  good  spirits 
like." 

"  You    had   better   turn    your   eyes    to 


142  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


home,"  replied  the  boy,  much  excited ; 
"  you  look  in  your  books  when  you  are 
reciting,  if  Miss  Winslow  does  not  stand 
where  she  can  see  you;  and  what  is 
that  but  cheating?" 

The  girl  now  hung  her  head,  and  was 
glad  to  find  that  they  were  too  near  the 
entrance  to  allow  her  opportunity  to 
reply. 

But  when  the  officiating  clergyman  af- 
terward said  that  we  must  each  die  for 
himself,  be  judged  alone  for  himself,  as 
though  there  were  not  another  individual 
soul  in  the  universe,  these  children  thought 
of  the  words  they  had  lately  exchanged, 
and  became  sorrowful. 

The  house  was  crowded  to  overflowing 
with  people  ;  for  in  such  countiy  places,  a 
funeral,  even  of  a  child,  is  an  event  which 


IMPRESSIONS    BY   THE    WAT.  143 


is  observed  with  rare  attention  by  the 
neighboring  families  for  miles  around.  A 
clergymali  has  then  an  opportunity  to  pro- 
claim the  most  practical  solemn  truths, 
sometimes  to  hearts  which,  else,  he  has 
no  opportunity  to  reach.  Many  people 
will  listen  attentively  on  these  occasions, 
when  no  consideration  would  induce  them 
to  enter  the  house  of  divine  worship. 
Woe  to  him  who  shall,  then,  for  the  sake 
of  securing  local  popularity,  cry.  Peace, 
peace,  when  there  are  no  scriptural  grounds 
for  it.  Let  the  chosen  preacher  of  right- 
eousness, also  beware  of  proclaiming  that 
personal  judgment,  w^hich  belongs  to  Him 
who  only  can  rightly  read  the  heart  and 
life. 

Miss  Winslow  and  her  pupils  occupied 
a  vine-sheltered  arbor,  which  adjoined  the 


144  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


front-room  of  the  house.  There,  rustic- 
seats  had  been  prepared  for  them,  which 
were  much  more  comfortable  than  those 
in  the  crowded  rooms.  On  one  of  these, 
near  the  open  but  half-curtained  window, 
Mss  Winslow  was  sitting,  unconscious  of 
her  proximity  to  others,  when  the  low 
sound  of  voices  in  conversation  unavoid- 
ably arrested  her  attention. 

"  I  understand  your  son  died  in  great 
peace  and  triumph,  which  must  be  an  un- 
speakable consolation." 

Miss  Winslow  started  at  the  sound  of 
that  voice. 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir,  that  it  is,"  replied  the 
mother,  yielding  to  a  gush  of  grief. 

"  Our  excellent  minister  heard  of  his 
sickness,  the  day  before  he  died,  and  was 
about  to   come   over   here,  but   his   horse 


IMPRESSIONS   BY   THE   WAY.  145 


was  lame  and  the  arrangement  he  made  to 
come,  fell  through  for  that  day.  The  next 
morning  it  was  too  late.  I  thought  I 
would  bring  him  here  myself,  to-day." 

"  It  is  very  kind  in  you,  Esquire  Alton. 
But  I  have  found  friends  in  the  midst  of 
this  great  trouble,  that  God  alone  could 
have  raised  up  for  me." 

"  You  have  good-hearted  neighbors." 

"  Yes ;  but  Miss  Winslow,  our  school- 
teacher has  been  as  an  angel  of  heaven  to 
us  all,  and  especially  to  my  poor  boy. 

«  Indeed  !   how  is  that  ?  " 

"  Why,  she  told  him  what  it  was  to  re- 
pent of  sin  and  get  ready  to  die.  She 
spoke  softly  to  him,  —  so  that  he  heard 
her,  in  a  good  way,  and  thought  over  what 
she  said.  She  came  here  when  he  wanted 
to  see  her,  and  she  watched  with  him,  one 

13 


146  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


of  his  last  nights.  He  thought  much  of 
her,  and  one  of  the  last  things  he  said  was 
*tell  Miss  Winslow,  I  thank  her  for  all 
that  she  has  taught  me,  —  most  of  all,  that 
she  has  helped  me  to  die.'  Yes,  sir,  it  is  a 
great  thing  to  help  anybody  to  die.  And 
my  poor  Samuel  "  — 

The  mother  again  yielded  to  sobs. 

Esquire  Alton  being  now  obliged  to  make 
room  for  some  newly-arrived  mourners, 
he  went  out,  and,  seeing  the  company  of 
children  in  the  arbor,  joined  them. 

"  Is  there  room  for  me,  here  ?  "  he  asked 
in  a  low  voice. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  oldest  of  the  boys, 
"  there's  a  seat  in  the  corner." 

The  young  lawyer  glanced  in  the  direc- 
tion indicated,  and  now  for  the  first  time 
perceived     Miss   Winslow.      He    bowed. 


IMPRESSIONS   BY   THE   WAY.  147 


asked  permission  to  occupy  the  seat  next 
her,  and  then  entered  into  a  low  conversa- 
tion respecting  how  she  liked  the  vocation 
of  a  teacher. 

"  It  is  a  noble  one,"  replied  Miss  Wins- 
low,  "  though  it  has  some  evils,  like  aU 
others." 

"For  instance,  the  greatest  of  these 
evils  ?  "  he  queried. 

"  Are  the  examination  first  of  the  teach- 
er and  then  of  the  scholars,  by  the  august 
members  of  the  school  committee  ?  " 

The  young  man  smiled  quietly,  but  ap- 
pearing not  to  notice  the  drift  of  her  re- 
mark, continued,  —  "I  have  thought  it 
would  be  well  for  all  parties  if  the  visiting 
member  of  the  committee  could  inspect 
the  school,  incognito. ^^ 

"Undoubtedly;   for   in    that  way,  truth 


^ 


148  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


might  be  gained,  which,  otherwise  might 
lie  at  the  bottom  of  the  well,"  returned 
Miss  Winslow.  After  a  slight  pause,  she 
went  on  with  a  touch  of  spirit  in  her  tone : 
— "  He  would  not  do  her  the  injustice  to 
think  her  stiff  and  cold-hearted,  when  she 
was  only  timid  and  unpractised.  Her  ap- 
parent lack  of  popular  cheerfulness  would 
be  set  down  to  its  right  cause." 

The  young  committee-man  now  fixed 
his  eyes  with  a  searching  curiosity  upon 
hers,  and,  despite  his  ak  of  the  travelled 
man  of  self-poised  ease,  was  unmistakably 
hit  by  this  caustic  observation.  What  he 
would  have  said  in  reply  to  this,  did  not 
transpire,  for  at  this  moment  the  funeral 
services  were  commenced  by  the  minister 
who  stood  in  the  door-way. 

While   the   minister  went   on  with   his 


IMPRESSIONS   BY   THE   WAY.  149 


solemn  words,  Mary's  eyes  wandered  away 
to  the  hills  and  upland  orchards  in  near 
view ;  and  she  reflected  that  the  eyes  of 
her  pupil,  which  had  so  often  taken  in  the 
same  prospect,  were  now  closed  with  that 
seal  which  no  man  can  open.  How  soon, 
at  the  longest,  thought  she,  will  it  be  thus 
with  my  own?  Why  should  I  then  con- 
cern myself  much  about  anything,  only  to 
fulfil  the  duty  of  the  present  hour  with  the 
fear  of  God  ever  before  me  ? 

"  Suddenly  the  Angel  of  Death  knocks 
at  our  door,"  now  said  the  minister,  "  and 
sometimes  we  contrive  to  keep  him  out 
and  send  him  away ;  but  it  is  only  for  a 
season.  He  returns,  and  the  time,  ay,  the 
moment  comes  when  he  will  not  go  away 
without  one  of  our  beloved  ones  bear  him 
company  into  that  land,  which,  though  the 

13* 


150  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


most  important  of  all  realities  to  us,  is  yet 
but  a  region  of  the  great  unknown.  We 
waft  our  sighs  thitherward  after  the  dark 
messenger  has  gone  with  our  heart's  heart, 
but  they  return  to  us  void  of  tidings.  Im- 
plumous,  they  fly  only  the  length  of  a  this- 
tle-down, when  they  fall  to  the  earth  with- 
out even  a  brush  of  the  edges  of  the  low- 
est heaven.  Inspkation,  alone,  has  power 
to  afford  one  solid  hope  to  our  stricken 
hearts;  and,  as  was  said  of  old,  are  the 
consolations  of  God  small  with  thee  ?  This 
is  the  victory  which  overcometh  the  world, 
yea  ail  things,  even  our  faith,  —  that 
faith  which  is  the  substance  of  things 
hoped  for,  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen. 
The  author  and  finisher  of  this  faith  is 
Jesus!  Glorious  Immanuel!  What  words 
pronounced  by  human   lips  can  set  forth 


IMPRESSIONS   BY  THE   WAY.  151 


the  blessedness  of  this  name  which  is 
above  every  name  !  Who  dares  say  in  his 
heart,  '  I  will  not  love  and  follow  this 
dear  Saviour  of  sinners  ? '  Is  there  a  child 
here  who  is  old  enough  to  look  upon  yon- 
der coffined  form  of  the  departed  play- 
fellow and  friend,  and  there  read  the  alpha- 
bet of  death  perhaps  for  the  first  time,  who 
wiU  not  here  and  now  resolve  to  love  the 
dear  Jesus  who  waits  with  outstretched 
arms  to  bless  all  those  who  run.  to  him  or 
but  touch  the  hem  of  his  garment,  for  sal- 
vation ? 

"  Do  you  ask  what  it  is  to  run  to  Jesus 
or  to  touch  the  hem  of  his  garment,  when 
you  cannot  see  him  as  the  people  once  saw 
him  on  earth  among  them?  It  is  this, — 
hasten  to  give  your  hearts  to  him,  by  seek- 
ing to  do  every  deed  and  speak  every  word 


152  THE  BED   BRIDGE. 


which  shall  be  right  and  good  in  his  sight. 
Touch  his  garment  by  your  humble  trust 
and  meek  obedience.  Remember  that  he 
once  endured  the  cross,  despising  the  shame, 
and  this  not  to  please  himself,  but  to  do 
the  will  of  his  Father.  Resolve,  then,  my 
dear  children  and  youth,  to  consecrate  your 
wills  to  his  service  and  to  receive  his 
blessing  into  your  inmost  hearts ;  —  that 
when  the  Dark  Angel  shall  come  for  you, 
however  sudden,  and  he  shall  say,  *John, 
or  Mary,  or  Charles,  you  must  go  away 
with  me  to-day  to  be  seen  here  no  more 
forever,'  you  will,  though  perhaps  surprised, 
be  ready  and  willing  to  obey,  as  one  who 
starts  upon  a  pleasant  journey  into  an  un- 
discovered country,  joyful  with  the  pros- 
pect of  going  to  your  beloved  Redeemer, 
where  there    are   only  pleasures   for  ever- 


IMPRESSIONS   BY   THE   WAY.  153 


And  thus  the  good  man  spoke,  till  every 
heart  around  him  was  moved  with  the 
solemn  yet  intensely  interesting  realities 
of  life  and  death. 

The'  next  day,  an  unusual  thoughtful- 
ness  prevailed  among  the  children,  and  at 
noon,  they  asked  Miss  Winslow  to  go 
with  them  to  their  bower  beside  the  wood, 
for  they  had  some  things  they  wanted  to 
talk  about. 

"  "We  will  not  gather  leaves  or  mosses, 
to-day,"  said  one  to  another ;  "  it  is  better 
to  learn  what  we  can  about  what  we 
heard  the  minister  say,  yesterday." 

Miss  Winslow  was  likewise  very  sol- 
emn, but  realizing  her  inability  to  say,  of 
her  own  self,  the  fitting  words  to  each 
young  inquirer,  when  they  had  all  gath- 
ered around  her  in  the  bower,  she  proposed 


154  THE   BED   BRIDGE. 


that  they  should  kneel  down  and  silently 
pray  to  God. 

"  I  never  prayed  in  my  life,"  said  Tom 
Harding,  "  and  I  don't  know  what  to  say ; 
I  think  you,  teacher,  had  better  pray  out 
aloud  for  us  all.  We  will  keep  still  and 
hark  to  every  word  you  say." 

Mary  had  never  prayed  before  such  a 
company,  and  she  felt  abashed  at  the  first 
thought  of  this  effort.  But  how  dare  I 
refuse,"  she  reflected  quickly,  "when  it  is 
written, '  Quench  not  the  Spirit ! '  and  the 
Holy  Spirit  is  evidently  striving  with  these 
hearts." 

So  she  knelt  and  reverently  offered  there 
her  soul's  desire  to  Him  who  has  promised 
to  hear  while  such  are  yet  speaking.  Be- 
fore she  had  ceased,  there  were  sighs  and 
sobs  all  around  her,  from  the  stricken  peni- 


IMPRESSIONS   BY  THE   WAY.  155 


tents.  Afterward,  every  one  of  that  group 
had  some  questions  to  ask  about  what  they 
should  do  to  be  saved.  She  pointed  them, 
as  best  she  could,  to  the  Lamb  for  sinners 
slain,  and  recommended  each  not  to  give 
over  the  struggle  in  their  hearts  until  they 
had  resolved  to  be  Christ's  own  followers 
through  all  coming  time,  and  had  received 
the  evidence  that  he  accepted  them  for  his 
own. 

Several  of  them  then  went  farther  into 
the  wood  to  pray  for  themselves. 

Some  of  these  found  unspeakable  peace 
in  this  sweet  exercise  of  penitent  faith. 
Tom  Harding,  however,  declared  that  he 
could  not  believe  anything  in  these  things. 
"  I  try,"  said  he,  "  but  all  is  dark  before  me. 
There  are  some,  I  find  in  the  Bible,  who 
never  become  good,  after  all  that  is  done 


156  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


to  save  them.  I  believe  I  am  one  of 
them." 

Miss  Winslow  mentioned  his  case  to 
a  pious  friend,  and  also  wrote  to  Mrs. 
Comfort  respecting  him,  asking  what  to 
do.  "  I  am  yet  young  in  years  and  new 
in  the  good  way,  so  that  I  cannot  be  ex- 
pected to  have  the  needed  wisdom,"  she 
added. 

"  Humbly  claim  the  promise  that  where 
two  or  three  are  agreed  touching  any- 
thing, it  shall  be  done  unto  them,"  re- 
plied Mrs.  Comfort.  She  then  named 
stated  seasons  to  pray  for  the  divine  truth 
to  find  place  in  the  heart  of  the  inquir- 
ing boy,  requesting  Mary  to  observe  those 
times  in  the  same  spirit  of  supplicating 
faith. 

A  short  time  after  this,  Tom  Harding 


IMPRESSIONS   BY  THE   WAT.  157 


joined  Miss  Wiiislow  on  her  way  home 
from  school  one  afternoon,  and  though 
he  forbore  to  speak  of  the  subject  upper- 
most in  his  mind,  his  evident  manner  of 
seriousness,  as  though  a  weight  rested 
upon  his  spirit,  induced  her  to  inquire  if 
he  still  felt,  respecting  the  consecration 
of  his  heart  to  God,  as  he  formerly 
had  when  conversed  with  upon  the 
subject. 

"  I    don't    know,"    he    replied,    hesitat- 
ingly. 

"  Have  you  prayed  for  yom'self  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes  !  many  times." 

"  Do   you    think    God    does    not    hear 
your  prayers  ?  " 

"  He    hears   them,   but   he   doesn't   an- 
swer them  as  I  expected." 

"  How  did  you  expect  ?  " 
11 


158  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


"  I  supposed,  by  what  I  had  heard  peo- 
ple say,  that  I  should  have  great  joy 
when  I  had  prayed  as  I  ought  to,  and 
this  would  be  because  my  sins  were  for- 
given." 

"  Some  people  do  not  have  this  joy," 
replied  Miss  Winslow.  "  K  you  have 
truly  repented  of  your  sins  and  embraced 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  as  your  Saviour, 
by  a  living  faith,  you  have  a  right,  by 
his  divine  word,  to  call  yourself  one  of 
his  children.  The  Bible  says,  '  For  ye 
have  not  received  the  spirit  of  bondage 
again  to  fear ;  but  ye  have  received  the 
spirit  of  adoption,  whereby  we  cry,  Abba, 
Father'  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  living  faith  ?  " 
asked  the  boy. 

"  It  is  something  like  this,"  she  repUed. 


IMPRESSIONS   BY  THE   WAY.  159 


"  Two  men  started  in  a  boat  to  cross  a 
lake  to  a  certain  point  where  they  wished 
to  go.  One  of  them  said  to  the  other, 
'  I  will  go  wdth  you,  though  I  have  not 
the  least  idea  that  this  boat  will  serve 
to  get  us  across.' 

"  '  Why  do  you  start,  then  ?  '  said  the 
other. 

"'Because  it  may  just  chance  we  shall 
get  across ;  and  yet,  as  I  said,  I  have 
not  one  well-grounded  hope  of  doing 
so.' 

" '  If  you  have  so  little  expectation  of 
success,  I  should  think  you  would  choose 
to  stay  on  the  shore,'  observed  the  one 
who  believed  in  the  boat. 

" '  If  I  stay,  I  shall  be  destroyed  by  the 
wild  beasts,  it  is  certain,  so  I  have  made 
up  my  mind  to  make  the  trial  of  getting 


160  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


"  *  I  have  not  one  doubt  but  that  1 
shall  get  across,  because  the  man  who 
owns  the  boat  said  it  was  perfectly  safe,' 
replied  the  other. 

"  Now,  in  the  one  case,  you  see,"  said 
Miss  Winslow,  "that  the  man  had  a 
faith  which  was  living  and  worth  much  to 
him.  The  other  had  a  sort  of  faith,  but 
a  dead  one  at  the  best.  It  is  just  so  in 
your  present  state.  If  you  do  not  be- 
lieve that  God  hears  your  prayers,  when 
you  go  to  him  as  he  has  commanded, 
although  you  may  pray,  it  will  be  a 
dead  faith." 

"But  it  is  so  hard  to  believe,"  said 
the  boy. 

"  In  that  case  you  must  say  as  did  one 
of  whom  we  read  in  the  Holy  Scripture : 
*  Lord,  I  believe ;  help  thou  mine  un- 
beHef.' " 


IMPRESSIONS   BY  THE   WAT.  161 


.  "  Did  the  Lord  hear  such  a  prayer  as 
that?"   asked  Tom. 

"  Yes.  He  hears  all  the  sincere  yearn- 
ings which  go  up  to  him  from  all  the 
varied,  imperfect  hearts  of  his  creatures, 
and  from  the  abounding  perfection  of  his 
grace  dispenses  blessings  according  to  our 
necessities,  in  the  plan  of  Infinite  Wis- 
dom." 

"  I  can't  see  it,  exactly,"  observed  the 
boy. 

"  You  know  how  all  the  plants  of  the 
earth  of  whatever  kind,  small  and  great,  if 
they  have  enough  of  life  in  them,  are  nour- 
ished and  strengthened  by  the  sun  ?  "Well, 
they  get  the  nourishment  and  strength  just 
in  proportion  to  their  capability  of  receiv- 
ing it,  and  their  favorable  locality.  K  they 
are  in   deep   and   dark  shadows,  they  es- 

14* 


162  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


cape  the  precious  blessing  of  the  sun's 
rays.  So,  if  we  have  any  divine  life  in 
our  hearts  that  enables  us  to  look  upward 
towards  God,  he  blesses  us  with  his 
grace,  unless  we  are  in  the  ungenial  shade 
of  sin  and  worldly-mindedness.  We  then 
have  but  an  unnatural,  sickly  growth,  of- 
ten die  before  our  time,  or  else  become 
encumbered  with  the  fungus  of  vice,  and 
so  have  but  a  useless  existence  at  the 
best." 

"  It  is  so  hard  to  understand,"  Tom  said, 
as  he  was  about  to  turn  off  towards  his 
home. 

"  No ;  you  need  not  try  to  understand 
in  order  to  be  good  enough  to  be  ac- 
cepted by  God.  You  have  but  to  look 
and  live.  The  way  is  so  plain,  you  can- 
not   err    therein.      Only    make    up    your 


IMPRESSIONS   BY   THE   WAY.  163 


mind  to  start  in  it,  and  what  wisdom 
you  need  as  you  go  on,  will  be  given 
you,  day  by  day.     Will  you  try  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  I  will ;  but  I  am  troubled 
with  many  hard  thoughts." 

"  Leave  them  all  behind  you." 

"  If  I  only  could ! " 

"  Have  you  ever  read  about  Christian 
at  the  Wicket  Gate,  in  Pilgrim's  Prog- 
ress ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am,  I  haven't." 

"  You  must  read  it,  then,  as  I  have  it 
with  me  at  my  boarding-place.  I  will 
bring  it  to  you  to-morrow.     Good-by." 

The  boy  hesitated  to  go  on.  At  last, 
he  called  after  Miss  Winslow,  saying, 
"  Couldn't  I  go  along  now  and  get  that 
book?" 

"  Certainly,    if    yon    like,"    said    IMary, 


164  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


much  pleased  to  discover  the  interest  of 
her  pupil,  —  one,  too,  whom  she  but  re- 
cently would  not  have  suspected  of  this. 
It  was  now  within  a  few  days  of  the 
close  of  her  school.  One  project,  which 
had  been  upon  her  mind,  was  yet  un- 
developed. This  was  to  impress  upon 
her  pupils,  in  some  way,  the  imperative 
necessity  of  being  whole-hearted  friends 
to  the  holy  cause  of  temperance.  How 
to  present  the  subject,  so  as  to  rightly 
attract  these  young  minds,  was  a  ques- 
tion now  frequently  revolving  in  her  mind. 
There  were,  apparently,  parents  in  that 
district  who  would  oppose  any  such  at- 
tempt. She  resolved  to  make  this  a 
special  subject  of  prayer. 


VI. 
€mmxnntmn  gag. 

^f  HE  Roman  emperor  who  had  his  own 
^^  figure  painted  on  a  canvas,  one 
W  hundred  and  twenty  feet  in  height, 
must  have  experienced  that  "  touch  of 
nature  "  which  "  makes  him  kin  "  to  the 
smallest  school-child  on  that  memorable 
occasion,  —  examination  day.  It  is  this 
great  event  which  brings  out  the  numer- 
ous capabilities  of  the  beautiful,  the  use- 
ful, and  the  intellectual,  which  else  might 
lie  latent,  so  far  as  the  recognition  of  the 
surrounding  world  is  reckoned.  What 
heart  not  wholly  devoted  to  cynical  self- 
ism,  can   fail   to   throb  with    pleasure  on 

(165) 


166  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


beholding  the  little  boys  and  girls,  and 
the  great  ones  as  well,  all  nice  and  fresh 
in  their  equipment  for  the  "last  day"  of 
the  school.  Bodies  and  minds  are  en- 
veloped in  a  beauty  which  is  accompanied 
by  a  satisfaction,  such  as,  perhaps,  no 
other  scene  in  after  life  can  eclipse  or 
even   equal. 

There  they  were  around  the  old  school- 
house  under  the  butternut-tree,  or  within 
its  sweet,  clean  room,  which  had  been 
adorned  with  garlands  and  pretty  rural 
devices  "  too  numerous  to  mention,"  wait- 
ing for  Miss  Win  slow  to  make  her  appear- 
ance at  the  top  of  the  hill  —  the  first  point 
where  her  recognition  was  possible. 

At  last  a  straw  hat  with  black  ribbons, 
under  a  black  parasol  lined  with  white, 
made  its  appearance.     A  half-dozen  of  the 


EXAMINATION   DAY.  167 


girls  were  off  immediately  to  meet  and  es- 
cort her  to  the  door. 

''  How  beautiful  she  is  in  her  spotted 
white-muslin ! "  said  one. 

"  So  trim  and  so  spruce ! "  observed 
another. 

"  And  such  splendid  hair ! "  was  heard 
fifom  a  third. 

"  I  know  what  makes  them  call  her  all 
these  fine  names,"  now  spoke  up  Tom 
Harding  from  an  open  window,  at  which 
he  stood  gazing  after  the  crowd. 

"  How  is  that  ?  "  asked  a  boy  beside  him. 

"  It's  because  she  has  been  real  good 
and  kind  to  us.  If  she  had  been  cross  and 
ugly  to  us  all  summer,  her  gown  would 
have  been  like  a  toad's  back,  and  her  hair 
as  horrid  as  the  sun's  in  our  old  Farmer's 
Almanac." 


168  THE   EED   BRIDGE. 


"  But  then,  Miss  Winslow  is  a  nice- 
looking  person  it  can't  be  denied,"  said  the 
other. 

"  All  in  the  way  you  look  at  things,  you 
may  depend ! " 

"  How  shall  we  look  at  you,  then  ?  " 

"  As  a  lion,  wild  and  free  in  his  native 
jungle.  My  mother  sometimes  says  to 
me,  '  Thomas,  my  lamb,  go  and  do  this  or 
that.'  I  can't  bear  to  hear  it.  I  hate  to  be 
called  a  lamb." 

"  Perhaps  a  cub  would  be  more  in  char- 
acter." 

Tom  now  resented  this  speech  by  be- 
laying his  companion  after  the  style  of 
similar  boys  in  his  situation.  In  the  me- 
l^e  the  boys  fell  against  a  smaller  one 
who  was  not  spry  enough  to  escape  the 
circuit   of  the   combatants.     Thereupon  a 


EXAMINATION   DAT.  169 


high  scream  was  heard  to  pierce  the  tran- 
quil morning  air.  By  the  time  the  teacher 
and  her  fairy-like  attendants  had  entered 
the  school-house,  the  scene  was  enough  to 
appal  the  angel  of  beauty  and  order  who 
was  supposed  to  preside  over  this  choice 
occasion, 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  queried  Miss 
Winslow  of  the  little  child  who  ran  tow- 
ards her  in  his  affright  and  tears. 

"  Tom  Harding  is  licking  John  Roe,  for 
he  called  him  a  lamb  or  some  such 
thing." 

"  'Twas  a  cub  I  called  him,"  said  John, 
now  disengaging  himself  from  Tom's 
grasp  and  pushing  back  his  hair  from  his 
flushed  forehead. 

"  And  I  wasn't  a-going  to  bear  it,"  con- 
tinued Tom,  laughing,  "  we'd  a  done  well 

15 


170  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


enough,  if  we  hadn't  hit  that  great  calf 
there ! " 

Another  gush  of  grief  from  the  newly- 
injured  boy  who  had  been  set  down  in 
the  beastly  score  of  affronts,  prompted 
Miss  Winslow  to  announce  in  a  tone  of 
authority  that  all  these  words  and  ac- 
tions must  cease. 

"  Thomas,  I  am  very  sorry,  for  I  had 
thought  better  things  of  you ! "  she  said, 
looking  on  him  so  reproachfully  he  turned 
away  with  an  unmistakable  look  of  regret. 

"  It  is  too  bad,"  said  the  girls,  "  when 
we  had  got  everything  so  nice  and  fine, 
and  we  were  so  proud  to  have  teacher 
see  it  all,  to  think  those  great  boys  must 
spoil  all  the  first  good  effect ! " 

"Just,  too,  over  a  few  animal  names," 
exclaimed  one  of  them,  "when  they  are 
all  a  set  of  noisy  creatures  at  the  best." 


EXAMINATION   DAY.  171 


"  What  do  you  call  us  ?  "  inquired  Tom, 
reappearing  with  an  air  of  good-humor. 

"  I  call  ?/o«V'  said  one  of  the  elder 
girls,  "the  serpent  who  appeared  in  the 
beautiful  garden  and  spoilt  all  their  fun 
at  the  beginning." 

"  Very  good.  That's  bully,"  said  Tom. 
"  Call  me  anything  but  a  lamb.  That  is 
so  soft." 

"  Do  you  not  remember,"  said  Miss 
Winslow,  "  that  our  adorable  Redeemer 
is  compared  to  a  lamb  in  one  place 
in  holy  Scripture ;  while  in  another  he 
is  called  by  this  name  ?  How  can  you 
affect  to  despise  a  name  which  was  so 
dear  to  him  that  he  said  in  accents  of 
the  utmost  tenderness  to  one  of  his  dis- 
ciples, '  Feed  my  lambs '  ?  I  bad  hoped 
that  you  were  one  of  these  precious  ones, 


172  THE  RED  BRIDGE. 


for  whom  the  Lamb  was  slain  from  the 
foundations  of  the  world,  and  that  you 
were  now  fed  by  the  heavenly  manna  of 
which,  if  one  eat,  he  shall  hunger  no  more.'* 

"  I  didn't  mean  that,"  replied  Tom ; 
"but  our  Saviour  was  also  called  the 
Lion  of  Judah,  was  he  not?" 

"  He  was  thinking  about  Daniel  Web- 
ster, who  was  called  the  lion  of  the 
north,"  said  his  sister. 

"  No  I  wasn't,"  said  Tom,  coloring. 

"  Never  mind  now  what  he  was  thinking 
about,"  spoke  Miss  Winslow,  who  had 
compassion  on  the  boy's  confusion.  "  We 
are  all  thoughtless  at  times,  so  that  we 
need  the  charity  of  our  fellow-beings,  most 
of  all,  of  Him  who  knoweth  our  hearts. 
Thomas,  let  me  dismiss  this  subject  by 
giving  you  one  text  to  remember,  *  Serv- 


EXAMINATION   DAY.  173 


ing  the  Lord  with  all  humility  of  mind.' 
Acts  XX.  19." 

The  children  were  no\v  called  to  take 
their  seats.  JVIiss  Winslow  took  a  few 
moments  before  the  arrival  of  the  visit- 
ors to  say  to  them  as  follows :  — 

"  I  trust  that  none  of  you  will  be 
guilty  of  such  rudeness  as  to  stare  at 
the  people,  either  upon  their  first  appear- 
ance or  afterwards.  Whoever  may  come 
or  whatever  may  happen,  do  not  ex- 
change smiles,  or  in  any  other  w^ay  be- 
tray an  emotion  of  ridicule.  This  laugh- 
ing at  others'  peculiarities  is  a  mark  of 
weakness  of  mind  and  badness  of  manners." 

She  then  called  upon  one  of  the 
younger  pupils  to  give  what  she  had 
just  told  them  in  his  own  language,  — 
which  was  her  custom  when  she  wished 

15* 


174  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


to  impress  any  observation  of  importance, 
not  less  for  the  good  of  the  individual 
called  upon,  than  for  the  benefit  of  the 
whole  school. 

Joseph  May,  a  pert  lad  of  nine  years, 
stood  up  and  said,  "  You  don't  want 
any  of  us  to  look  at  the  folks  that 
come,  as  though  we  were  aU  wild 
beasts  who  had  never  set  eyes  on  any- 
body afore  to-day." 

A  universal  laugh  now  interrupted  the 
boy,  and  Miss  Winslow  was  obliged  to 
hide  her  own  smiles  behind  her  fan. 

"  But,"  continued  Joseph,  emphatically, 
"  if  any  of  'em  have  on  anything  ever  so 
queer,  or  make  a  mistake  and  set  down 
on  the  floor  instead  of  a  chair,  we  are 
not  to  move  a  nose  of  our  faces  more'n 
as  though  we  were  at  a  funeral.'* 


EXAMINATION   DAY.  175 


"  And  what  is  laughing  at  the  pecu- 
liarities of  others  ?  "  continued  the  teacher. 

"'Tis  a  sign  of — of  a  soft  head  and 
a  "  —  The  boy  could  not  quite  tell  the  rest. 

"  Any  one  ?  "  said  Miss  Winslow. 

"  A  rotten  heart,  "  said  another. 

"  That  phrase  is  too  inelegant,"  she  said. 
Tom  Harding  now  raised  his  hand. 

"  What  will  you  say  of  it,  Thomas  ?  " 

"  It's  a  mark  of  a  boor  and  a  bear,  both." 

A  loud  knock  was  now  heard  on  the 
door.  Several  of  the  parents  and  friends 
of  the  children  had  come.  Arrivals  con- 
tinued until  the  old  house  was  crowded, 
for,  to  the  rare  praise  of  this  district,  be  it 
recorded  that  they  cultivated  such  an  inter- 
est in  the  common  education  of  their  chil- 
dren, that  few  events  had  for  them  more 
scope  for  attention  than  an  occasion  like 


176  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


the  present.  Two  of  the  committee  had 
arrived,  but  where  was  the  third,  —  the 
yomig  lawyer  whom  Miss  Winslow  had 
been  anxiously  expecting  for  the  last 
half  hour? 

"  Somethiiig  has  probably  newly  occurred 
to  prevent  his  being  here,  to-day,"  whis- 
pered one  of  the  official  gentlemen  to  Miss 
Winslow  ;  "  but  you  had  better  proceed, 
for  he  will  not  be  likely  to  appear  now, 
as   he   is   usually  very  punctual." 

Mary  would  not  have  confessed  to  her- 
self that  she»  w^as  disappointed  at  his 
non-appearance ;  but  the  fact  would  have 
been  evident  to  an  eye-witness  of  the 
emotion   of  her   secret   heart. 

Mary  had  taken  unusual  pains  with  her 
pupils  in  their  reading.  She  would  not 
have   assigned   the    reason   to   have   been 


EXAMINATION  DAY.  177 


the  real  fact  of  Mr.  Alton  having  called 
especial  attention  to  the  importance  of 
this  exercise  being  rightly  managed.  He 
was  a  fine  reader  himself,  and  appreciated 
good  reading.  She  had  hoped  that  he 
would  have  been  present  to  have  wit- 
nessed the  results  of  the  efforts  made 
in  this  regard  during  the  term.  But 
one  class  after  another  was  examined, 
yet   he   did   not   come. 

There  was  yet  her  first  class,  with  which 
she  had  taken  so  much  pains.  She  would 
defer  this  till  just  before  recess 

The  half-hours  flew  by.  Every  one  did 
their  best,  even  better  than  Mary  had  ex- 
pected. "  If  he  had  only  been  here  ! "  she 
thought. 

It  was  getting  warm,  and  the  fans  of  the 
lady   visitors   did    effectual    service ;    but 


178  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


their  interest  flagged  not.  Everything  was 
orderly,  nice,  and  sometimes  so  novel  in  its 
procedm-e,  they  thought  not  of  weariness. 

Now  there  was  a  heavy  step  on  the  old 
door-stone ;  then  a  knock  with  a  cane. 
Mary's  heart  fluttered.  It  might  be  Esquire 
Alton,  after  all.  She  was  glad  that  Tom 
Harding  had  not  declaimed  yet,  and  that 
the  oldest  class  had  not  read.  Mary  went 
to  the  door  with  a  light  step. 

"  Friend,"  spoke  a  strange,  hollow  voice, 
from  under  a  very  wide-rimmed  white  hat, 
"  I  was  passing  along  here  on  my  journey, 
and,  from  what  I  saw  and  heard,  I  con- 
cluded that  this  was  the  closing  of  thy 
school.  Will  thee  suffer  a  tu'ed  traveller  to 
turn  in  and  rest  awhile  under  thy  roof  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  answered  Mary ;  "  walk 
in."     She  then  led  the  way  within  the  in- 


EXAMINATION  DAY.  179 


ner  room,  and  assigned  the  traveling  Friend 
a  seat  next  the  gentlemen  of  the  examin- 
ing committee.  But  he  said,  "  I  will 
take  a  lower  seat,"  and  stationed  himself 
on  a  chair  near  the  water-pail  by  the  door. 

It  was  well  that  the  scholars  had  received 
such  preliminary  training,  but  a  short  time 
ago,  respecting  the  propriety  of  not  staring 
nor  laughing  in  the  presence  of  unexpected 
and  odd-looking  individuals.  For  this  man, 
with  Ids  coal-black  beard  and  long  black 
hair  under  the  curious  hat  which  he  did 
not  remove  from  his  head,  his  long,  drab- 
colored  coat  and  his  sharp-toed  shoes  with 
silver  buckles,  was  almost  enough  to  move 
the  risibles  of  better-trained  muscles  than 
those  of  the  children  around  him. 

"  He  is  a  shaking  Quaker,"  wrote  one 
of  the  girls  to  her  seat-mate. 


180  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


"  Rather  an  itinerant  beauty,"  was  writ- 
ten back. 

"  I  guess  it  is  JefF.  Davis,  come  as  a 
spy,"  whispered  one  of  the  boys. 

"  He  looks  as  if  he  could  take  all  the 
free  States  through  this  school-house, 
by  passing  round   his  hat,"   said  another. 

Miss  Winslow  tapped  with  her  pencil 
and  motioned  her  pupils  to  preserve  or- 
der. 

"I  wish  this  man  had  kept  out,"  she 
said  to  herself.  "  His  very  presence  in- 
fects the  whole  school  with  just  what  I 
warned  them  against.  They  were  doing 
well  tUl   he   came   in   among  us." 

The  sons  of  God,  in  Job's  time,  could 
hardly  have  been  more  disturbed  by  the 
appearance  of  their  unbidden  guest.  The 
committee   left    off    watching  the  classes 


EXAMINATION   DAY.  181 


in  their  new  interest  in  the  strange 
Quaker. 

But  the  object  of  all  this  stir  pre- 
served the  tenor  of  his  ways  with  most 
exemplary  equanimity.  He  noticed  none 
of  the  curious  glances,  but  made  up 
for  the  visitors'  diminished  interest  in  the 
classes  by  bestowing  a  double  share  him- 
self. 

At  recess  some  of  the  boys  said,  in 
so  loud  a  voice  it  must  have  been  heard 
by  the  subject  of  their  remarks,  who  con- 
tinued  to   sit  near   the   open   door,  — 

"  If  ever  I  had  to  hold  on  to  keep 
from  laughing,  it  was  in  there ;  but  I 
reckoned  it  would  hurt  Miss  Win  slow,  af- 
ter what  she  said  to  us,  so  I  just  looked 
away  from   old    Broadbrim,    and   thought 

IG 


182  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


of  the  cucumber-vines  over  across  the 
road,  which    I   could   see  from  my  seat." 

The  writing-books,  maps  drawn  by  the 
pupils,  with  the  school-register,  were  now 
passed  around,  when,  on  their  coming  to 
the  stranger,  he  took  out  his  spectacles 
from  a  large  steel  case,  and,  carefully 
adjusting  them,  examined  the  books  with 
a  notice  which  was  very  complimentary 
to  all   the   interested   parties. 

The  time  came  at  last  when  Mary  de- 
clared her  part  of  the  exercises  of  the 
occasion  finished.  The  gentlemen  of  the 
committee  then  exchanged  several  loud- 
ly-whispered communications,  after  which 
the  oldest  one,  who  was  a  much-re- 
spected clergyman  of  the  town,  rose, 
coughed  a  little,  placed  his  chair  before 
him,    and   began   by  saying,  that  he  was 


EXAMINATION  DAY.  183 


much  gratified  to  see  the  large  and  in- 
terested company  of  spectators  present 
on  that  occasion.  Meantime  he  looked 
very  frequently  in  the  direction  of  the 
open  door  where  sat  the  strange  guest. 
He  then  said  several  other  things,  which 
had  reference  to  their  proficiency,  good 
appearance,  and  decided  success ;  but 
as  the  time  was  rapidly  passing  away, 
he  would  give  way  to  his  friend  of 
the  committee,  who,  he  trusted,  would 
be  followed  by  other  visitors,  who  might 
have  a  word   to   add   on   the  occasion. 

The  "  friend  of  the  committee "  said 
pretty  much  what  he  had  said  a  score 
of  times  before  on  such  emergencies, 
hoping  that  they  would  not  lay  aside 
their  books  during  the  long  time  which 
intervened  before  the  fall  school,  and  that 


184  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


they  would  be  grateful  to  the  kind  friends 
who  had  thoughtfully  provided  such  lib- 
eral advantages  for  their  securing  an 
education    in   the   morning   of  life. 

There  was  then  a  long  pause,  when 
an  invitation  was  again  extended  to  any 
friend  present,  who  might  have  some- 
thing  edifying  to   offer   on  that  occasion. 

The  strange  Friend  now  slowly  rose 
from  his  seat,  while  he  took  off  his 
spectacles  and  deliberately  placed  them 
in  the  case,  which  he  shut  with  a  loud 
snap,  then,  folding  his  arms  behind  his 
back,  began  accordingly : 

"  Friends  of  thy  town  and  friend  Mary 
Winslow,  as  I  perceive  thou  art  named  in 
the  register  of  thy  school,  with  all  these 
young  friends  about  me !  in  behalf  of  a 
plain  people  who  love  the  good  common- 


EXAMINATION   DAY.  185 


school,  I  take  this  opportunity,  most  unex- 
pectedly, to  greet  ye  ail ! 

"  I  judge  ye  have  done  well  in  the  past, 
each  in  his  place,  teacher  and  learner ; 
may  ye  do  as  well  in  the  time  yet  be- 
fore ye.  We  read  that  there  was  once 
a  statue  of  black  marble  set  up  in  Thebes 
in  Egypt,  to  the  memory  of  Memnon,  and 
that,  when  the  earliest  rays  of  the  dawn 
struck  upon  this  statue,  it  would  give  out 
sweet  tunes,  as  if  rejoicing.  Now,  this 
marble  statue  may  be  compared  to  the 
human  mind,  and  the  earlier  the  rays  of 
knowledge  strike  on  it,  the  sweeter  will  be 
the  tones  in  response.  By  and  by,  when 
the  sun  was  up  in  the  heavens,  the  dark 
marble  was  doubtless  very  beautiful  in  the 
golden  beams,  but  there  were  heard  no 
gentle,  rapturous  notes  of  harmony. 

16* 


186  THE   KED    BRIDGE. 


"  Possibly  it  gave  out  true  responses,  al- 
most like  a  god,  when  men  came  to  it  for 
wisdom ;  but  it  made  no  music  only  early 
in  the  morning.  So  must  ye,  my  young 
friends,  look  at  the  fountain  of  wisdom 
early  in  life,  also  early  each  day  of  that 
life,  and  early  in  the  opportunities  of  that 
day.  '  Know  your  opportunity '  said  one 
of  the  seven  wise  men  of  Greece.  And 
the  saying  is  good  for  each  of  us,  to-day. 
Never  let  slip  an  occasion  to  get  or  to  do 
good  by  thy  delays. 

"  Remember  it  is  the  first  ray  of  the  dawn 
that  brings  out  the  music.  Now,  if  any  of 
you  have  reasonable  plans  for  the  future, 
strike  on  them  at  the  earliest  opportunity, 
and  not  put  them  off  till  thee  lose  thy 
chance." 

Here   our   strange  Friend   ceased,  which 


EXAMINATION  DAT.  187 


was  well,  for  his  voice,  being  as  peculiar 
as  his  outer  garb,  excited  the  merriment  of 
the  school  and  even  some  of  the  spectators. 
Miss  Winslow  was  much  pained  at  these 
demonstrations  of  disrespect  to  one,  ap- 
parently so  many  years  their  senior  and 
withal  a  stranger. 

The  Quaker  saw  that  he  was  ridiculed 
by  nearly  all  present,  except  the  teacher, 
and  taking  his  cane,  he  bowed  to  her,  and 
then  made  a  movement  to  go  out.  But 
an  afterthought  detained  him.  Turning 
back  once  more,  he  said  — "  Friends  I 
though  all  of  you  except  thy  pastor  and 
thy  teacher,  are  discourteous  to  the  de- 
spised Quaker,  one  day  ye  will  know  he 
is  able  to  do  ye  good  or  ill." 

He  then  walked  away. 

When   the  exercises  had   all  concluded, 


188  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


and  the  company  had  left,  except  one  or 
two  of  the  parents  who  resided  at  a  dis- 
tance, and  waited  without  the  door,  to  be 
accompanied  by  their  children,  Mary  re- 
smned  her  position  in  the  desk  and  after 
distributing  the  prize-books  to  those  pupils 
who  had  excelled  in  their  several  classes, 
she  said  she  had  something  to  present  to 
each  of  them,  provided  they  would  accept 
it  and  write  their  names,  each  pupil,  on 
the  gift.  Every  eye  now  kindled  with  a 
new  interest,  and  there  was  a  general  sen- 
sation throughout  the  school. 

"  I  hold  in  my  hand  a  box  which  con- 
tains just  as  many  juvenile  Temperance 
Pledges  as  there  are  members  of  this 
school,"  she  continued,  at  the  same  time 
opening  the  box  and  displaying  the  beauti- 
ful  pink,  blue,  orange,  and  red  cards  on 


EXAMINATION   DAY.  189 


which  was  printed  the  Pledge.  "  Now,  I 
propose  that  we  form  ourselves  into  a  little 
Temperance  Society,  as  a  memorial  of  the 
close  of  this  pleasant  term  of  school,  and 
every  girl  and  boy  who  is  willing  to  join  in 
this  good  work  will  sign  his  or  her  name  to 
the  card,  and  then  keep  it  as  a  testimonial 
of  their  interest  in  this  holy  cause  and  also 
of  my  regard  for  each  of  you." 

She  then  circulated  the  cards  among 
them,  saying  that  a  few  days  previous  she 
had  sent  to  an  energetic  and  wise  advo- 
cate of  temperance  for  pledges,  and  these 
had  been  the  result,  with  a  cheering 
letter,  which  she  proceeded  to  read  aloud. 

The  children  read  upon  the  cards :  — 

"  Oh,  if  for  me  the  cup  you  fill, 
Then  fill  it  from  the  gushing  rill." 


190  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


PLEDGE ! 
I,  tlie  undersigned,  do  agree  to  abstain  from  the 
use  of  All  Intoxicating  Drinks,  as  a  beverage ; 
and  will  use  my  influence  to  persuade  others  to 
do  the  same.  I  also  agree  to  abstain  from  the  use  of 
Tobacco,  in  any  of  its  forms." 

"  What  say  ?  will  you  sign  ?  "  asked  one 
of  the  bgys  of  Tom  Harding,  in  a  loud 
whisper. 

"  I  think  not.  I  like  to  smoke  father's 
pipe,  and  a  cigar  now  and  then,"  said  Tom. 

"  And  I,"  said  another,  "  like  the  wine 
which  we  make  from  our  grapes.' ' 

"  We  can  drink  cider,  if  we  do  sign 
this  ? "  asked  one  of  the  boys  of  Miss 
Winslow. 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  one  of  the  girls, 
"  for  I  have  seen  people  just  as  near 
drunk  as  a  body  could  be,  on  old  cider." 


EXAMINATION  DAY.  191 


"  Anything  which  is  fermented,  if  drunk 
in  sufficient  quantity,  can  intoxicate," 
spoke  Miss  Winslow,  "  and  some  people 
think  that  cider  produces  a  worse  effect 
on  the  temper  than  even  wine  or  other 
liquors." 

"  I  guess  I  can't  sign,"  spoke  up  a 
little  boy,  "for  I  drink  lots  of  cider  and 
chew  cuds,  too,  whenever  I  can  get 
them." 

A  heavy  step  was  now  heard  in  the 
entry.  It  was  doubtless  one  of  the 
parents  ^ho  had  been  listening  beneath 
the  open  windows.  Mary's  heart  sunk 
within  her. 

"  It  is  all  a  failure  after  my  pains  to 
get  the  pledges  and  leave  a  good  work 
weU  rounded  in  this  place,"  she  said  to 
herself. 


192  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


The  door  opened  and  a  pale,  haggard 
man,  who  trembled  in  every  limb,  stood 
before  them. 

Mary  would  not  have  recognized  him, 
had  not  one  of  the  scholars  said  to  her 
seat-mate  so  loud  as  to  be  heard,  "  It  is 
old  John  Wilkins,  what  used  to  be  our 
Sam's  father." 

A  hush  pervaded  the  whole  of  that 
group  for  it  was  no  common  spectacle 
which  met  theii*  eyes.  John  Wilkins  was 
now  rarely  seen  beyond  his  own  door. 
Formerly,  long  before  the  memory  of  the 
oldest  of  these  children,  he  had  been  a 
thriving,  capable  man,  but  "  intoxicating 
drinks "  had  v\Toughr  ruin  both  to  his 
property  and  health.  He  had  been  con- 
sidered for  some  years  as  partially  insane, 
and    had   it   not    been   for    his    unusually 


EXAMINATION   DAY.  193 


smart  and  energetic  wife,  everything 
which  nominally  belonged  to  him,  would 
have  hopelessly  sunk  to  the  depths  of 
wretchedness. 

"  Boys,"  said  he,  extending  his  quiver- 
ing hand,  "do  any  of-  you  stop  about 
signing  that  pledge  ?  I  came  here  to 
see  your  teacher  once  more,  and  I  heard 
out  there  what  you  said.  If  you  feel 
now  that  you  can't  give  up  the  accursed 
stuffs,  —  the  rum  and  the  wine  and  cider 
as  well,  with  tobacco,  —  why,  then,  now 
look  at  me  and  see  what  you'll  come 
to,  one  day.  I  have  been  a  mean,  wil- 
ful slave  to  all  of  them,  and  should  have 
died  a  fool  or  a  crazy  man,  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  what  I  promised  when  my  poor 
boy  died,  this  summer.  I'm  nov/  mis- 
erable old  John  Wilkins,   good    for   noth- 


194  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


ing  to  myself  or  anybody  else.  My 
strength  is  all  gone  so  that  I  can  hardly 
feed  myself.  And  I'm  the  most  to  be 
pitied  of  anybody  there  is  around  here. 
What's  done  it  all  ?  This  drinking  and 
smoking ! 

"Do  you  want  to  gTOW  up  just  such 
curses  to  your  folks,  as  these  things  will 
surely  make  you? 

"  Why,  what  do  you  suppose  it  would 
have  been  worth  to  me,  when  I  was  a 
boy  like  you  here,  if  somebody  had  come 
along  with  one  of  these  pledges,  and  I 
had  signed  and  then  kept  it!  It  would 
have  made  me  a  man  with  a  thriving 
farm,  a  plenty  of  money  in  the  bank 
that  I  could  have  educated  my  children 
with,  and  kept  my  poor,  abused  wife 
somethiiig  as  respectable  folks  keep  their 


EXAMINATION   DAY.  195 


wives.  Oh  dear  I  "  —  His  voice  faltered, 
and  he  burst  into  tears.  The  children 
began,  likewise,  to  cry.  Tears  were  seen 
in  the  eyes  of  the  teacher. 

"  My  poor  boy  —  little  Sam,  that's  dead 
and  gone  —  suffered  dreadfully  with  shame 
over  his  drunken  father.  I've  seen  him 
slink  back  when  anybody  came  along, 
and  beg  of  me  to  hide  away,  too,  I  used 
to  be  so  ragged  and  wretched.  And  I  — 
I  beat  him  —  yes,  I  have  whipped  him 
when  he  spoke  to  me  about  it"  — 

Again  he  yielded  to  his  sobs. 

"  But  my  poor  child  is  now  where  he 
wont  have  to  be  ashamed  of  drunken 
folks.  He's  got  on  a  clean  robe,  a  white 
robe  "  — 

"  My  dear  cliildren,"  now  spoke  Miss 
Winslow,  "  if  you  had  seen  what  I  have 


196  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


seen  from  the  effects  of  drinking  strong 
drink,  3'OU  would  welcome  these  pledges 
as  bright  messengers  of  peace  and  good 
fortune.  Turn  over  the  cards  and  see  the 
other  side.  Thomas,  you  will  please 
read  aloud  from  the  back  of  your    card." 

Tom  Harding  looked  rather  abashed 
as  he  read  in  a  loud,  firm  voice :  — 

"  Who  hath  woe  ?  who  hath  sorrow  ? 
who  hath  contentions?  who  hath  bab- 
lings  ?  who  hath  wounds  without  cause  ? 
who  hath  redness  of  eyes  ? 

"  They  that  tarry  long  at  the  wine, 
they  that  go  to  seek  mixed  wine.  Look 
not  thou  upon  the  wine  when  it  is  red, 
when  it  giveth  his  color  in  the  cup,  when 
it  moveth  itself  aright. 

"  At  the  last  it  biteth  like  a  serpent, 
and  stingeth  like  an  adder." 


EXAMINATION   DAY.  197 


"  Taste  not !  hear  what  wisdom  saith  ; 
Should'st  thou  taint  thy  pure,  sweet  breath  ? 
Quench  thy  young  eyes'  lustrous  light 
'Neath  its  baneful,  blasting  blight  1 
No,  by  God's  sweet  goodness,  no ! 
Taste  not !     Bid  the  tempter  go." 

"TOUCH   NOT    THE   UNCLEAN   THING." 

Oh,  forge  no  fetters  for  thy  soul ! 

From  evil  habits  flee  ; 
Yield  not  thy  youthful  heart  to  sin  — 

Its  strength  may  master  thee." 

"  I'll  take  a  red  one,  Miss  Winslow, 
and  please  to  lend  me  your  pen,"  said 
Tom,  as  he  finished  reading. 

"  And  I,"  said  another,  "  want  a  blue 
card  to  put  my  name  on." 

"  It's  dreadful  hard  to  give  up  dad's 
old  pipe,  and  the  cigars,"  was  now  heard 
in  another  direction,  "but  for  the  sake  of 
the  thing  it  can  be  done." 

"  Smoking  don't  do    no    hurt,"    put    in 
17  * 


198  THE    RED    BRIDGE. 


some  one,  at  this  juncture ;  "  if  it  did,  our 
folks,  I  guess,  would  have  been  hurted 
clean  dead." 

"  Smoking,  or  chewing,"  said  Miss 
Winslow,  "is  a  vile  habit,  which  injures 
the  brain,  the  stomach,  and  the  nerves. 
No  man  nor  youth,  who  yields  to  these 
practices,  can  be  what  he  would  without 
them.  Besides,  think  of  the  expense  of 
these  things!  The  money  you  would 
spend  in  this  way,  would  get  you  quite  a 
library  in  a  short  time." 

"  I'm  in  for  the  beautiful  pledges,"  was 
now  the  general  cry. 

Old  Ml*.  Wilkin s  now  advanced  a  step, 
and  looked  around  him,  with  a  smile 
struggling  to  come  out  on  his  face. 

"  Walk  forward,  sir,"  said  Mary,  "  and 
take  a  seat  with  us." 


EXAMINATION   DAT.  199 


"  I've  not  lived  quite  all  my  life  in 
vain,  after  all,"  he  said ;  "  this  sight  does 
my  heart  good." 

"  I  rejoice  that  you  came  here,"  said 
Mary ;  "  and  I  hope  that  your  angel-boy 
is  now  where  he  can  see  us.  There 
must  be  joy  in  heaven  to-day." 

Tom  Harding  went  around  among  the 
boys  and  girls,  pen  and  ink  in  hand, 
urging  where  it  was  necessary,  and  when 
they  were  too  small  to  write,  carrying 
the  cards  to  Miss  Winslow  to  write  theu* 
names. 

At  length,  he  cried  out,  "  They've  all 
signed.  Miss  Winslow." 

Mary  then  expressed  her  gratitude  for 
the  noble  act  they  had  done,  reminding 
them  of  their  dependence  upon  God  for 
strength  to  keep   the   promises   they   had 


200  THE   BED   BRIDGE. 


solemnly  made.  All  then  bade  her  fare- 
well with  much  tenderness.  Tom  Har- 
ding, in  a  low  voice,  told  her  he  had 
made  up  his  mind,  also,  to  be  a  Chris- 
tian. 

"  Pray  for  me  that  I  may  escape  hell," 
were  Mr.  Wilkins'  last  words  to  her.  She 
was  enabled  to  say  appropriate  words  to 
each. 

On  entering  the  door  of  her  boarding- 
place,  she  was  not  a  little  surprised  to 
find  the  strange  Quaker  there,  partaking 
leisurely  of  milk,  bread,  and  cheese.  His 
hat  was  still  on  his  head,  and  she  had 
been  in  the  room  some  little  time  before 
he  showed  any  consciousness  of  her  pres- 
ence. At  length  he  tm'ned  towards  her 
and  said, — 

"  A  philosopher   has   written,  *  Patience 


EXAMINATION   DAY.  201 


is  bitter,  but  its  fruit  is  sweet.'  Thee 
can  now  take  the  opportunity  to  reap 
some  of  the  rewards  of  that  virtue." 

"  I  fear  I  do  not  deserve  much  credit 
for  patience,"  replied  Mary ;  "  what  little 
I  owned  was  nearly  all  wasted  to-day,  at 
one  time." 

«  As  how  ?  " 

"  I  had  given  them  a  careful  lesson  upon 
the  importance  of  showing  no  unbecoming 
emotion  in  the  presence  of  visitors.  After 
that,  how  iU  they  behaved  in  that  re- 
gard !  " 

"  I  noticed  that  in  thy  scholars,  friend : 
but  since  thou  didst  not  lend  thy  counte- 
nance to  such  deportment,  it  bodes  me 
no  ill  to  speak  of.  Moreover  they  were 
not  so  much  to  blame,  as  they  knew  not 
what  manner  of  man  I  am." 


202  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


"  Will  you  permit  me  to  inquire,  sir, 
who  you  may  be  ? "  asked  Mary,  who 
had  now  her  curiosity  fairly  aroused. 

"  That  thou  mayst  do." 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Mary,  adding  to  herself, 
«  Why  don't  he  tell,  then  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  expedient  for  me  to  tell  thee 
now ;  but  thou  shalt  know  hereafter." 

Mary  was  annoyed  at  this  reply,  but 
said  nothing,  for  there  was  something 
about  him  which  impressed  her  with  re- 
spect, despite   herself. 

"Dost  thou  have  it  in  thy  mind  to 
teach  soon  again,  friend  Winslow  ? "  he 
asked,  after  a  long  pause,  during  which 
he  had  been  occupied  with  his  repast. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  now,  sir,"  she  re- 
plied. 

He  turned  his  eyes  on  hers,  to  read  if 


EXAMINATION    DAY.  203 


she,  in  this  reply,  were  intending  to  an- 
swer him  after  his  own  style.  She  looked 
away,  indifferently. 

"  I  hope  I  shall  know  my  opportunity," 
she  added. 

He  smiled,  but  was  silent. 

The  articles  of  food  were  liberally  paid 
for,  and  he  rose  to  go. 

"  Have  you  far  to  go,  sir  ? "  inquired 
the  lady  of  the  house. 

"I  know  not,"  he  said;  "the  journey 
of  life  is  uncertain  in  its  length.  We 
are  here  to-day ;  there,  to-morrow ;  one 
man  on  this  occasion,  another  on  that. 
We  are  the  creatures  of  change  ;  but  as 
it  is  written  in  AdJPopulum,  '  Let  Heaven 
and  Earth,  and  Angel  and  Man,  and  all 
change  ;  still,  stiU,  Ego  Deus  non  mutor,  — 
God  he  is  the  Lord  of  all,  and  he  chang- 


204  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


eth  not.'  Farewell,  Mistress  Swan,  and 
friend  Mary  Win  slow."     He  was  gone. 

"  How  did  he  know  your  name  ? " 
asked  Mary  of  Mi's.  Swan,  the  woman 
of  the  house. 

"  He  is  crazy  I "  exclaimed  that  woman 
with  an  alarmed  air.  "  Let  me  look  to 
it  that  my  silver  is  all  safe.  Where  is 
little  Jackey  ? "  indicating  her  youngest 
child  who  was  just  old  enough  to  toddle 
about. 

She  sprang  hurriedly  to  look  out  after 
him. 

"  There  he  is,"  said  Mary,  "  walking  off 
up  the  hill  with  that  man,  who  leads  him 
by  the  hand.  They  are  talking  together 
like  old  friends." 

The  frightened  mother  darted  quickly 
away   after    her     boy.      "Jackey,  Jackey, 


EXAMmATION  DAY.  205 


come  right  home  !  "  she  cried.  The  stran- 
ger stopped,  looked  back  with  unfeigned 
surprise  at  the  advancing  mother,  then 
motioned  the  child  to  go  to  her.  But 
Jackey  now  set  up  a  loud  cry  to  go  on  ♦ 
with  the  Quaker. 

"  The  despised  stranger  is  understood 
by  one,  at  least,"  he  said,  as  he  resigned 
the  child  into  his  breathless  mother's 
hands. 

"  All  he  knows,"  said  the  mother,  impa- 
tiently leading  him  away. 

That  night  all  the  doors  in  that  neigh- 
borhood were  fastened  with  greater  care 
thfin  usual,  and  Mrs.  Swan,  as  she  averred, 
never  shut  her  eyes  to  sleep  a  single  wink. 
For  several  days  after,  inquiries  were 
made  if  any  one  had  seen  a  mad  Quaker 
anywhere  on  the  up-town  road,  or  if  there 

18 


206  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


had  been  a   new-arrival  at  the  poor-house 
of  late? 

Miss  Winslow  concluded  that  he  was  a 
traveling  agent  for  some  beneficent  or  ed- 
ucational institution,  and  by  no  means 
agreed  w4th  the  general  opinion  of  his 
insanity.  She  had  gone  away  to  spend 
her  vacation  with  an  old  school-friend 
who  resided  some  twenty  miles  distant 
from  the  locality  of  the  district-school, 
when-"  she  received  a  letter  in  a  handwrit- 
ing unfamiliar,  yet  not  wholly  unrecog- 
nized. She  hurriedly  opened  it  and  read 
as  follows :  — 

"  Will  Miss  Winslow   pardon   the  bold 

design,  with   its    successful   execution,   by 

the    '  absent    member  of  the   school-com- 

>.  mittee,'  that  considered  observations  taken 


EXAJnNATION   DAY.  207 


*  incognito '  would  prove  more  valuable  to 
one,  who,  in  some  unaccountable  way 
had  fallen  under  the  ban  of  her  ill  prej- 
udice ? 

"  The  Quaker  garb,  inherited  from  the 
maternal  grandfather,  with  the  aid  of  hair- 
dye,  proved  useful  if  not  beautiful. 

"  Impressions  were  thus  received  of  char- 
acter which  no  other  '  opportunity '  could 
so  abundantly  have  furnished.  As  con- 
sent was  j&rst  obtained  to  the  incognito, 
it  is  reckoned  that  all  has  been  done 
fairly. 

"  Respectfully  yours, 
a^  "  Harey  Alton." 

"  Was  ever  anything  so  trying ! "  ex- 
claimed Mary  on  reading  this  letter.  "  To 
thilik    I    did    not    mistrust    him,  while    I 


208  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


thought  I  was  patronizing  an  unpretend- 
ing wayfarer ! " 

She  looked  farther  and  saw  a  post- 
script :  — 

"  If  it  is  not  asking  more  than  I  have 
any  right  to,  I  shall  reckon  it  a  favor  to 
have  this  little  episode  a  la  the  *  Knight  of 
the  Green  Plume,'  retained  undisclosed 
to  my  fellow-citizens  around  me." 

Some  young  ladies  would  have  an- 
swered this  by  a  long,  elaborate  epistle ; 
but  after  considering  the  matter,  Mary 
decided  that  she  should  not  continilfe  the 
correspondence,  unless  formally  invited  to 
do  so. 

"  There  is  nothing  gained  by  forestalling 
matters,  or  by  pursuing  any  slight  advan- 


EXAMINATION   DAY.  209 


tage  which  may  chance  to  occur  of  this 
Idnd,"  she  said  to  herself;  "besides,  I 
trust  I  have  wisdom  enough  to  know  that 
my  '  opportunity '  is  not  to  be  seized,  but 
rather  accepted  when  presented  to  me  by 
the  unmistakable  hand  of  Providence. 

18* 


VII. 

Cnr  J^E  next  find  Mary  at  Blenheim  Fe- 
^^  male  Seminary,  —  one  of  many 
o  popular  resorts  for  the  young  la- 
dies of  our  land,  some  of  whom  desire 
to  obtain  an  education,  while  others  are 
satisfied  with  the  name  of  so  doing. 
She  was  admitted  on  these  conditions: 
—  to  be  a  member  of  the  senior  class, 
which  would  graduate  in  one  year,  and 
also  have  the  charge  of  several  classes 
as  instructor.  After  her  graduation,  if 
nothing  transpired  to  prevent,  she  was  to 
be  engaged  as  a  regular  teacher.  Her 
straitened  circumstances,  pecuniarily,  ren- 

(210) 


SEMINARY  LIFE.  211 


dered  this  arrangement  especially  fortu- 
nate. 

It  is  sometimes  the  case  with  reliable 
persons  that  their  lot  is  cast  with  the 
giddy  and  uncertain  ones,  for  the  sake 
of  the  general  good;  and  so  Mary  was 
assigned  by  Mrs.  Harrison,  the  Principal, 
to  room  with  Miss  Wallingford,  a  gay 
young  lady  from  the  neighboring  city. 
As  this  girl  was  generally  popular  with 
the  members  of  the  school,  her  influence 
which  set  at  first  in  favor  of  Mary, 
proved  of  good  service  and  contributed 
not  a  little  to  the  establishment  of  a 
feeling  of  content  and  satisfaction  in  her 
desolate    heart. 

Everything  seemed  now  to  tend  to- 
wards her  prosperity,  for  she  succeeded, 
even  beyond  her  expectations,  both  as  a 


212  THE  EED   BRIDGE. 


pupil  and  teacher.  She  was  resolved,  as 
was  the  habit  of  her  life,  to  throw  her 
whole  soul  into  her  work  ;  and  her  life  was 
devoted,  day  by  day,  to  the  fulfilment  of 
her  duties,  in  the  most  creditable  man- 
ner. Her  career  as  a  student  bade  fair 
to  be  more  brilliant  and  satisfactory  than 
that  of  any  other  member  of  the  school. 
But  life  has  lessons  for  those  who 
watch  the  order  of  divine  Providence, 
of  which  she  had  learned  scarcely  more 
than  the  alphabet.  One  of  these  is,  that 
"  Every  branch  which  beareth  fruit.  He 
purgeth  it  that  it  may  bring  forth  more 
fruit."  Another  is,  "  They  that  live  godly 
in  Christ  Jesus  must  suffer  persecution." 
Mary  supposed,  if  she  did  well  in  aU 
respects,  every  one  would  acknowledge 
her  goodness,  by  using  her  fairly  and  on 


SEMINARY  LIFE.  213 


terms  of  love  and  confidence.  But  no 
sooner  had  her  excellence  become  con- 
spicuous, than  the  evil  eye  of  Envy  fell 
upon  her  with  its  blight  and  blackness. 
She  had  ever  conducted  towards  her 
room-mate  with  irreproachable  friendli- 
ness, but,  after  a  time,  that  young  lady 
began  to  wonder  within  herself  why  she 
was  not  respected  and  admired  by  teach- 
ers and  pupils  as  much  as  was  Miss 
Winslow.  From  this  she  came  to  think 
that  her  room-mate  gained  more  of  popular 
favor  than  was  her  right.  And,  without 
being  herself  aware  of  the  sinister  spirit 
she  had  suffered  to  enter  into  her  heart, 
she  watched  for  an  opportunity  to  cut 
away  some  of  Mary's  desirable  founda- 
tion on  which  she  rested  in  Blenheim 
Seminary. 


214  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


The  opportunity  was  slow  to  present 
itself,  for  Mary  was  ever  so  kind  and 
obliging,  withal  so  faithful  in  the  dis- 
charge of  her  duties,  it  was  not  easy  to 
find  entrance   into    her   reputation. 

But,  one  day.  Miss  Wallingford  was 
slightly  ill,  and  required  the  aid  of  her 
room-mate,  which  had  always  been  cheer- 
fully given.  Miss  Wallingford  was  touched 
with  gratitude  at  Mary's  great  kindness 
on  this  occasion,  and  her  feeling  of  envy 
was  fast  giving  place  to  a  nobler  one, 
when,  happening  to  remember  her  old 
habit  at  home  of  dosing  with  wine,  in 
order,  as  she  averred,  to  invigorate  her 
system,  she  asked  Mary  to  procure  her 
some   for   her   present   use. 

"  Wine  will  do  you  no  good,"  said 
Mary. 


SEMINARY  LIFE.  215 


"  Oh,  yes,  chum,"  said  Miss  Walling- 
ford ;  "  I  have  taken  oceans  of  the  best 
quality  at  home.  You  don't  know  what 
you  are  talking  of,  when  you  say  anything 
against  the  proper  use  of  wine." 

"  I  know  something  about  the  effects 
of  it,"  replied  Mary,  "  though  never  from 
my  own  use  of  it.  I  would  as  soon  take 
poison  myself." 

"  Well,  then,  get  me  some  brandy,  if 
you  object  to  wine,"  continued  her  room- 
mate. 

"  That  is  even  worse,"  replied  Mary. 

"  What  spirit  do  you  choose,  then  ?  " 
asked  Miss  Wallingford. 

"  None,"  said  Mary,  emphatically. 

"  What !  not  in  case  of  sickness  ?  " 

"  There  may  be  cases  of  disease,"  she 
replied,    "  when   certain  spirits,  prescribed 


216  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


by  a  careful  physician,  prove  a  benefit ; 
but  these,  in  my  opinion,  are  very  rare, 
—  much  rarer  than  generally  supposed. 
I  have  known  some  of  the  worst  cases  of 
inebriety  to  have  been  the  result  of  a 
habit  of  drinking  liquor,  first  authorized 
by  a  physician." 

"  But  don't  you  suppose  a  doctor  knows 
better  than  you  do  ?  "  said  Miss  Walling- 
ford,  laughing  derisively. 

"  I  pretend  to  no  superior  wisdom," 
Mary  went  on,  "  and  I  think  thiit  many 
intelligent  and  conscientious  physicians 
would  agree  with  me  that  the  use  of 
liquor,  even  as  a  medicine,  should  be  very 
cautiously  recommended.  We  are  such 
creatures  of  appetite  and  impulse,  that 
none  can  foretell  the  results  of  apparently 
very   harmless   beginnings   in   the  use  of 


SEMINARY   LIFE.  217 


strong  drink.  In  most  cases,  if  these  re- 
sults could  be  foreseen  in  their  startling 
reality,  the  bane  would  be  totally  eschewed 
from  the  first." 

"  I  have  taken  a  glass  of  wine  before 
going  out  to  a  party,  or  any  such  place, 
many  a  time,  to  set  me  up  when  1  have 
felt  down  at  the  mouth,"  said  Miss  Wal- 
lingford,  "  and  it  did  me  a  world  of  good, 
I  assure  you.  Mother  and  I  always 
go  to  the  closet  for  some  sherry  as  soon 
as  ever  we  get  into  the  house,  after  a  long, 
tedious  morning  of  shopping,  round  town. 
Sometimes,  she  prefers  a  little  good  gin,  and 
I  some  equally  good  Madeira.  Oh  !  I  wish 
I  had  some,  now.  The  next  time  I  go 
home,  I'll  bring  out  a  bottle  of  wine." 

The  bell  having  rang  at  this  moment, 
Mary  went  out  to  attend  a  recitation,  and 

19 


218  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 

no  more  was  said  upon  this  subject  that 
day.  On  the  following  day,  Miss  Wal- 
lingford  was  out  among  the  girls,  and 
Mary  occupied  the  room,  for  the  most  part, 
alone,  save  during  the  inevitable  evening 
study-hours. 

One  of  Mary's  most  congenial  friends, 
had  been  Ellen  Rice,  the  daughter  of  a 
physician,  and,  soon  after  this  time,  she 
began  to  miss  her  accustomed  calls  to 
walk  with  her  in  recreation  hours.  On 
going  to  that  young  lady's  room  to  see 
if  anything  had  happened,  she  was  pained 
to  notice  a  slight  change  in  her  manner, 
and  she  plead  imperative  engagements 
which  would  prevent  her  from  accompany- 
ing Mary.  Although  she  occasionally 
called  on  Mary,  after  this,  yet  it  was 
evident  that  she  was  no  longer  the  good 


SEMINARY   LIFE.  219 


and  true  friend  she  had  formerly  been. 
A  certain  coldness  and  want  of  entire 
confidence,  however  much  she  attempted 
to  conceal  it,  characterized  her  manner 
towards  Mary,  which  wounded  her  sensi- 
tive spirit  to  the  quick. 

It  was  not  long  before  Mary  thought 
she  perceived  a  similar  absence  of  cor- 
diality in  other  of  her  former  friends,  but 
as  she  was  unaware  of  having  given 
occasion  for  this  manifestation,  and  fear- 
ing that  she  was  becoming  suspicious 
without  cause,  she  hastened  to  reassure 
herself  that  affairs  were  really  better  than 
at  present  they  appeared. 

The  Literary  Society  connected  with 
the  institution  at  this  time,  proposed  to 
hold  a  public  meeting.  As  Mary  had 
been    an    efficient    and    valued    member 


220  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


since  her  coming  to  Blenheim,  she  was 
requested  by  the  President  to  prepare  a 
colloquy,  in  which  a  number  of  the  mem- 
bers could  appear  on  that  occasion.  After 
some  demur,  Mary  undertook  the  task. 
When  a  short  time  had  elapsed,  it  was 
written  and  submitted  to  the  committee  of 
the  society.  It  was  a  scene  illustrating 
the  evils  of  intemperance,  and,  being  writ- 
ten with  much  spirit  and  taste,  was  pro- 
nounced exactly  what  they  wanted.  The 
whole  affair,  however,  as  was  customary, 
was  kept  as  secret  as  possible,  save  with 
those  directly  connected  with  its  repre- 
sentation. When  the  evening  arrived  for 
the  exercises  to  come  off,  before  a  large 
and  intelligent  audience,  the  temperance 
colloquy  excited  considerable  expectation, 
as  it  had  escaped  among  the  people  gen- 


SEMINARY  LIPB.  221 


erally,  that  this  piece  was  strikingly  origi- 
nal and  interesting. 

Miss  Wallingford  now  envied  her 
room-mate  more  than  ever,  and  her  hos- 
tility was  no  longer  disguised  under  the 
thin  veil  of  politeness.  When  she  read 
Mary's  name  upon  the  programme,  as 
the  author  of  the  colloquy,  she  exclaimed 
scornfully  to  a  group  of  her  companions, 
—  "  Well  worthy  Miss  Frogalette  Croaker, 
who  thinks  all  the  wisdom  of  the  sages 
is  boiled  down  into  her  own  head." 

"  What  kind  of  liquor  would  you  call 
it,  then  ? "  asked  another,  who  was  listen- 
ing with  pleasure  to  Miss  Wallingford' s 
remarks ;  "  not  spirituous,  certainly  ?  " 

"  Sap,  or  the  juice  of  liquorice,"  said 
Miss  Wallingford. 

19* 


222  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


"  Why,  what  makes  you  so  caustic, 
Belle,"  now  asked  one  of  the  group. 

"  You  would  be  caustic,  if  you  had 
roomed  with  Madam  Frogalette  as  long 
as  I  have.  A  more  selfish  person  it  has 
never  been  my  ill-fortune  to  encounter. 
I  asked  her  to  go  to  the  store  to  get  me 
something  I  particularly  wanted,  when  I 
was  sick,  one  day,  and,  do  you  believe  it, 
she  actually  refused." 

"  Possible ! "  "I  could  not  have  be- 
lieved it ! "  exclaimed  several  voices. 

"  She  says  a  great  deal  in  her  Sunday 
school  class  against  the  sin  of  selfishness," 
now  spoke  up  one  who  was  a  member 
of  the  class,  and  who  had  hitherto  re- 
garded her  teacher  with  much  confidence 
and  afTection. 

"  I   dare   say,"  said    Miss    Wallingford, 


SEMINARY  LIFE.  223 


"  as  it  is  always  the  way  with  those  who 
talk  the  loudest,  their  private  deeds  are 
the  most  contemptible." 

"  I  shall  not  appear  in  her  class  any 
more,  for  I  will  not  lend  my  countenance 
to  deception,"  thought  that  young  lady, 
"  and  yet  I  have  always  loved  her  dearly," 
came  likewise  into  her  reflection. 

The  audience  being  called  to  order,  a 
period  was  put  to  this  conversation.  The 
innocent  and  unconscious  object  of  these 
poison-shafts  of  envy  now  appeared  upon 
the  platform.  Ah !  there  was  new  food 
for  the  insatiate  foe  ;  for,  lovely  as  Mary 
ordinarily  v/as,  never  had  she  appeared  so 
exquisitely  charming  as  on  this  evening. 
Her  simple  dress  of  white,  without  orna- 
ment, was  most  befitting  her  classic  style 
of  face,  framed  by  a  wealth  of  dark  hair. 


224  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


which  school-girls  term  "  perfectly  magnifi- 
cent." Her  eyes  large,  of  a  dark  blue,  and 
somewhat  sad,  were  the  chief  attraction 
of  her  else  beautiful  person.  These  in- 
dicated a  pure,  elevated,  and  consecrated 
soul. 

Her  assignment  was  now  the  opening 
address,  which,  being  well  written,  and  read 
in  an  impressive,  yet  modest,  and  perfectly 
womanly  style,  elicited  unusual  applause. 
Several  choice  bouquets  signalized  her  de- 
parture from  the  platform. 

On  reaching  the  ante-room,  one  of  these 
arrested  the  notice  of  her  companions,  as 
it  contained  some  of  the  costliest  flowers 
of  the  season. 

"  Beautiful,  exceedingly ! "  cried  a  young 
lady ;  "  and  see,  Mary,  here  is  a  note 
hidden  among  the  leaves  I  " 


SEMINARY   LIFE.  225 


Mary  hurriedly  opened  the  delicate 
missive  and  read  —  "  From  friend  Incog- 
nito^ 

"  Is  it  possible  that  Mr.  Alton  is  here  ?  " 
she  exclaimed  to  herself ;  "  I  should  not 
have  read  with  any  repose,  had  I  known 
that  he  was  among  the  audience  to- 
night." 

S!ie  soon  recovered  her  usual  tranquil- 
lity of  spirit,  although  occasional  flashes 
of  curiosity,  respecting  the  presence  of 
Mr.  Alton,  kindled  the  latent  interest  in 
her  heart. 

When  the  colloquy  came  on,  she  re- 
tired by  a  back  passage  communicating 
from  the  building,  and,  borrowing  a  veiled 
hat  and  shawl,  entered  among  the  audi- 
ence, and  made  her  way  to  a  seat,  wholly 
unobserved  and  unrecognized.    She  wished 


226  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


to  make  observations  from  this  position; 
and  also  to  hear  the  criticisms  of  some 
of  the  auditors,  which  else  might  not 
reach  her  ears.  As  the  scenes  went  on, 
every  one  seemed  to  sit  almost  breathless, 
and  it  was  observed  that  some  of  the  per- 
sons around  her  were  affected  even  to 
tears.  In  one  of  the  pauses,  two  voices 
of  gentlemen  in  a  seat  just  behind  her  own, 
attracted  her  attention. 

"  Harry,  there's  truth  in  this  bit  of 
literature.  I  wonder  where  the  authoress 
of  it  obtained  her  characters.  You  say 
you  have  met  her   before  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  do  you  remember  our  old 
college  friend,  Harmon?  He  died  with 
delirium  tremens,  last  spring." 

Mary  started  at  the  sound  of  this  voice, 
which   she  recognized  as  that  of  "  Friend 


SEMINARY  LIFE.  227 


Incognito."  Her  first  impulse  was  to  look 
around,  and  see  of  a  truth  that  it  was 
really  himself.  But  a  second  thought  held 
her  motionless. 

"  Harmon  was  a  splendid  fellow,  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  drink.  I  was  afflicted 
when  I  heard  of  his  death.  How  well  I 
remember  of  his  urging  you  to  drink 
with  us,  and  your  inflexible  No  I "  said 
Alton's  companion. 

"  I  do  not  regret  my  negative.  It  saved 
my  life  once." 

"  As  how  ?  " 

"  When  I  was  in  Germany,  I  was  sick 
of  a  dangerous  fever.  FinaUy,  they  all 
gave  me  up.  I  sunk  lower  and  lower,  and 
my  attendants  pronounced  me  dead.  '  Let 
us  pour  some  brandy  down  his  throat,' 
said  the  physician.     At  this,  I  made  a  des- 


228  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


perate  effort  to  rally;  the  idea  of  being 
choked  to  death  did  not  agree  with  me.  I 
knew  all  that  was  going  on  ;  but  I  could  not 
move  to  save  my  life.  They  got  the  brandy 
and  begun  to  force  open  my  mouth,  when 
I  roared  out  such  a  decided  No,  my  doc- 
tor dropped  the  liquor  all  over  my  face, 
and"  — 

At  this  juncture  a  new  scene  of  the  col- 
loquy commenced  and  the  conversation 
ceased. 

By  and  by,  the  gentleman  said  to  his 
companion,  "  Alton,  I  begin  to  think  you 
know  more  about  this  young  lady  than  you 
choose  to  divulge." 

"  I  wish  you  had  kept  your  programme," 
returned  Alton  ;  "  I  want  to  see  what  these 
scenes  are  ca^^.ed  and  how  they  come  along." 

Mary   remembered   her    own    crumpled 


SEMINARY   LIFE.  229 


programme  in  her  pocket.  She  withdrew 
it,  and  wrote  thereon  with  a  pencil. 

"  I'd  like  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  her 
again.  Haven't  seen  her  since  I  threw  the 
bouquet,"  now  spoke  Alton. 

"  Would  she  understand  the  incognito  ?  " 

At  this  moment  the  scene  closed  ;  Mary 
rose  from  her  seat,  her  face  still  closely- 
covered  with  a  brown  veil. 

"  Madam,"  said  Mr.  Alton,  reaching  for- 
ward, "  will  you  oblige  me  by  lending  your 
programme  a  moment  ?  " 

Mary  bowed  slightly,  and  gave  it  to 
him.     She  then  passed  out. 

He  took  the  sheet,  and  his  eyes  rested 
directly  upon  a  writing  in  pencil  on  the 
blank  space  around  the  scenes  of  the 
colloquy.  He  read,  "  The  bouquet  is 
gratefully  acknowledged  by  Incog-nita.''^ 


20 


230  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


"  Did  you  notice  that  lady  who  just 
left  the  seat  here  in  front  of  us  ? "  asked 
Alton,  hurriedly,  of  his  companion. 

"  That  horrid  thing,  in  a  stifling,  umber- 
colored  veil  ?  " 

"  She  could  not  have  been  horrid." 

"  Why  not  ?  for  she  certainly  was." 

"  That  was  the  writer  of  this  piece, — 
Miss  Winslow,"  said  Alton. 

"  Possible  !  "  returned  his  companion. 
"  Let 's  see,  —  did  we  say  anything  that 
it  would  be  awkward  for  us  to  have  her 
overhear  ?  " 

"  In  return  for  my  incognito,  it  appears 
she  was  executing  the  incognita.  I  can 
forgive  her,  however,  since  she  has  ren- 
dered such  good  service  to  the  cause  of 
temperance." 

"  Yes ;  this  little  performance  was  a 
capital  thing." 


SEMINARY   LIFE.  231 


When  the  exercises  of  the  evening  were 
concluded,  Mr.  Alton  waited  with  his 
friend,  hoping  to  see  Mary  again.  She 
did  not  make  her  appearance,  and,  as  it 
was  already  a  late  hour,  he  was  forced 
to  leave  without  the  desired  meeting. 
He  was  stopping  with  an  old  college  ac- 
quaintance in  the  adjacent  city,  and  hear- 
ing of  this  public  meeting  of  the  Literary 
Society,  they  had  rode  out.  Previously 
aware  that  Miss  Winslow  was  a  member 
of  this  institution,  this  opportunity  had 
been  gladly  accepted  by  him. 

On  the  following  morning,  a  letter  came 
to  Mary  from  her  old  friend,  Mrs.  Comfort, 
requesting  her  to  accompany  the  bearer 
to  a  city  some  miles  distant,  and  there 
pass  the  coming  Sabbath  with  Mrs.  Com- 
fort and  her  friends.     Mary  gladly  obeyed 


232  THE  EED  :biiidge. 


this  summons,  for  her  heart  throbbed  with 
new  pleasm*e  at  the  prospect  of  again 
beholding  the  face  of  her  friend. 

Mrs.  Comfort  had  planned  a  little  excur- 
sion for  that  afternoon,  which  she  thought 
would  prove  pleasant  and  useful  to  Mary. 
It  was  to  make  a  visit  of  inspection  to  the 
U.  S.  Armory.  Ever  thoughtful  of  the 
pleasure  of  others,  she  had  exerted  herself 
to  effect  arrangements  so  that  Mary  might 
have  this  privilege.  She  met  her  young 
friend  with  the  same  cheery  laugh,  which, 
in  the  past,  had  so  often  lightened  Mary's 
heart.  "  I  thought  this  bit  of  change 
would  do  you  no  hurt,  seeing  that  you 
must  be  pretty  well  occupied  out  there  at 
the  seminary,"  she  said. 

"  How  few  persons,"  said  Mary,  "  ever 
think  it  worth  the  while  to  invite  a  teacher 


SEMINARY  LIFE.  233 


away  from  the  dreary  round  of  their  op- 
pressive cares  I " 

"  I  suppose,"  returned  Mrs.  Comfort, 
with  another  of  her  expressive  smiles, 
"that  most  folks  think  that  teachers 
have  such  an  easy  and  perfectly  delight- 
ful time  in  their  own  "  5/?ear,"  it  is  not  best 
to  attempt  to  dispel  their  fond  delusion. 
I've  heard  some  say,  too,  it  was  best  to 
keep  teachers  down,  lest  they  should  be 
lifted  up  with  a  sense  of  their  superiority." 

"I  only  wish,"  said  Mary,  "that  such 
persons  would  exchange  lives  with  a 
teacher  for  just  one  month.  Perhaps  they 
would  think  there  was  less  danger  of  "  — 

"  Taking  an  excursion  on  an  elevator," 
interrupted  Mrs.  Comfort.  "  Oh,  well,'' 
she  continued,  in  a  lighter  tone,  "  every 
place   in   life   has  its  trials,  and  if  it  was 

20* 


234  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


not  for  earth,  as  my  father  used  to  say, 
we  shouldn't  know  how  to  appreciate  heav- 
en. Then,  let  us  make  the  best  of  every- 
thing and  love  everybody,  you  know." 

"  I  am  happy  to  say,"  concluded  Mary, 
"  that  since  I  have  been  a  teacher,  I  have 
found  some  friends  who  are  a  most  honor- 
able exception  to  the  majority  of  whom 
we  have  been  speaking.  And  if  blessings 
can  descend  upon  those  for  whom  we  ask 
them,  from  full  and  overflowing  hearts, 
surely  plentiful  will  be  their  reward." 

Of  the  numerous  objects  of  interest, 
ancient  and  modern,  connected  with  the 
armory,  one  building  awakened  Mary's 
curiosity  more  than  everything  besides. 
She  was  told  by  one  of  the  attendants, 
as  she  with  her  party  approached,  that 
it  was  the  place  of  deposit  for  the  guns 
used  in  the  recent  war. 


SEMINARY   LIFE.  235 


A  powerful  sensation  stole  over  her 
whole  being,  as  a  cloud  passing  before 
the  sun  causes  a  shadow  to  fall  across 
the  landscape,  which,  but  a  moment  be- 
fore, had  been  bright  with  the  golden 
rays  of  the  mid-day  sun.  Memories  of 
her  brother,  —  his  words  as  she  saw  her 
initials  upon  the  breech  of  his  gun,  and 
her  last  look  upon  his  beloved  form, 
possessed  her  heart,  so  that  she  had 
scarcely  strength  to  go  on  within  the 
building. 

"  If  he  had  only  lived, "  she  reflected, 
"  I  know  he  would  have  been  a  good  man, 
for  my  earnest,  agonizing  prayers  to 
Heaven,  in  his  behalf,  would  have  been 
heard  by  Him,  who  can  touch  the  soul 
with  the  true,  vitalizing  power  of  refor- 
mation." Striving  to  conceal  her  emotion, 


236  THE   EED    BRIDGE. 

she  entered  that  building  with  her  friends, 
though  like  one  half  in  a  dream.  The 
sight  of  the  rusty,  blood-stained  muskets 
and  carbines,  with  the  thought  of  the  his- 
tory which  each  would  reveal,  if  it  had  a 
voice  accompanied  with  intelligence,  was 
enough  to  excite  an  imagination  much 
less  highly-wrought  than  hers.  On  every 
side  she  turned  her  eyes,  there  they  were, 
piled  closely  together,  or  standing  in  dense 
files,  like  grim  ghosts  of  the  grimmest 
episodes  of  a  civil  war,  or  like  skeleton 
sentinels  of  the  long,  bloody  array  of  ap- 
palling facts  in  the  past,  over  which,  like 
herself,  mothers,  sisters,  children,  and  friends 
had  wept  blinding  tears  ! 

"  Dear  William !  my  brother !  would  to 
Heaven  I  had  died  for  you ! "  she  cried, 
in  the  desolate  anguish  of  her  spirit. 


SEMINARY   LIFE.  237 


Half  falling  down  upon  a  step,  she  cov- 
ered her  face  with  her  hands. 

"  Come,  Mary,"  said  Mrs.  Comfort,  "  we 
are  going  down  into  the  basement  to  see 
the  old  guns  there.  To  be  sure  it  is  pretty 
much  what  we  have  seen ;  but  then  one 
wants  to  explore  all  there  is,  you  know." 

"  Excuse  me,  this  time,"  replied  Mary. 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  cried  from  below,  having 
now  descended  the  stairs  which  led  to  the 
cellar,  "  come  down,  and  find  for  yourself 
how  delightfully  cool  it  is  here.  It  is  so 
warm  everywhere  else  to-day,  it  will  do 
you  good." 

As  Mary  went  down,  a  cold  shiver, 
almost  like  that  of  death,  struck  her  frame. 
The  descent  into  a  sepulchral  vault  would 
hardly  have  impressed  her  more  solemnly. 
Through  one  of  the  open  north  windows 


238  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


a  pale  light  came  in  sufficiently  to  make 
the  muskets  in  that  direction  distinctly- 
visible. 

"  If  the  Peruvians,"  said  a  gentleman  of 
the  party,  "  thought  that  gold  was  *  the 
tears  wept  by  the  sun,'  we  may  well  call 
these  guns  the  groans  wnrung  from  mortal 
anguish,  grim  despair,  and  a  fierce  sense 
of  underlying  wrong." 

Mary  cast  her  eyes  backward  over  a 
dense  mass,  in  the  farther  part  of  the 
cellar,  which  was  just  enough  enveloped 
in  the  darkness  to  heighten  the  effect  of 
sublime  mystery,  which  shrouded  all  that 
place  like  a  heavy  paU  of  supernatural 
gloom.  A  divine  chord  in  her  soul  vibrated 
in  unison  with  the  stillness,  the  indistinct- 
ness, and  the  consciousness  of  these  sur- 
rounding memorials  of  war  and  carnage, 


SEMINARY   LIFE.  239 


SO  that  she  saw  what  no  other  there 
could  perceive,  and  felt  that  of  which 
they  had  no  conception.  The  past,  with  its 
sad  processions  of  sacrifice,  or  its  yet  sad- 
der paeans  of  triumph,  was  there,  dimly,  but 
w^ith  a  terrible  earnestness,  to  confront  and 
sicken.  The  giief  of  comfortless  hearts, 
for  the  moment,  was  communicated  to  her 
own.  She  trembled  like  a  plant,  smitten 
with  the  chilled  wind  of  uncongenial 
skies. 

"  You  have  too  much  sensibility,"  said 
Mrs.  Comfort,  passing  her  arm  around 
her,  and  gently  leading  her  forward,  near 
the  open  window. 

"  See  this  gun,"  said  one  of  the  gentle- 
men, taking  one  which  lay  a  little  de- 
tached from  the  mass  ;  "  it  looks  as  though 
it  had  known  service.      There's  blood  on 


240  THE   RED    BPtlDGE. 


that  breech !  And  here  are  letters."  He 
took  out  his  handkerchief  and  rubbed 
them. 

"  M.  W.,"  said  he,  slowly. 

"  Precious  tokens  of  some  loved  one," 
said  one  of  the  ladies. 

While  he  had  been  doing  this,  Mary 
had  pressed  forward,  and  eagerly  strained 
her  eyes  upon  the  gun  and  the  letters  on 
the  stock.  No  sooner  were  they  pro- 
nounced than  she  fell  forwards,  as  if 
lifeless. 

All  the  ladies,  except  Mrs.  Comfort, 
were  in  consternation.  Her  form  was 
borne  above  stairs  in  a  state  of  insensi- 
bility. 

When  she  was  partially  revived,  she 
murmured,  at  intervals  :  "  O  William ! 
why  did   they   not   spare    you  ?       Surely, 


SEMINAKT   LIFE.  241 


you  would  not  have  touched  the  fatal 
cup  again.  A  sister's  tears  and  prayers 
would  have  stood  between  you  and  ruin. 
Dearest  one !  speak  to  me  once  more  !  " 

It  was  the  work  of  hours  to  restore 
her  sufficiently  to  be  taken  away. 

Inquiries  were  afterwards  made  respect- 
ing the  circumstances  of  that  gun  being 
found  there ;  but,  as  it  was  only  one  of  a 
vast  multitude,  nothing  definite  could  be 
ascertained. 

21 


YIIL 

FTER  the  public  meeting  of  the 
Literary  Society,  in  which  Mary's 
success  had  been  so  brilliant  and 
decided,  she  found  Miss  Wallingford  more 
unamiable  than  ever ;  and  the  few  who 
had  evinced  coldness  towards  her  were  now 
gathering  numbers  daily.  It  soon  reached 
Mary's  ears  that  several  of  this  party, 
among  whom  was  Miss  Wallingford,  had 
taken  offence  on  listening  to  the  temper- 
ance colloquy,  for  the  reason  that  they 
believed  it  had  personal  allusions  to  them- 
selves. One  of  the  most  prominent  of 
the  pupils   declared   that   she   must   have 

(242) 


REVERSES.  243 


intended  to  take  her  off,  and  she  was 
overheard  to  promise  that  Miss  Winslow 
should  suifer  as  much  as  she  had  caused 
her  to  suffer  that  evening,  and  since, 
whenever  she  had  thought  of  it. 

Mary  was  deeply  pained  on  learning 
some  of  these  accusations,  and  hastened 
to  visit  the  offended  parties,  and  offer 
them  all  the  explanation  in  her  power. 
But  the  more  she  said,  the  more  unrecon- 
ciled they  became.  There  was  an  im- 
penetrable coldness  in  their  manner ;  their 
faces  were  set  against  her,  and  nothing 
that  she  could  do  or  say  had  any  effect  to 
mollify  their  asperity.  Had  she  been  less 
gifted,  and  less  conspicuous  in  her  success, 
all  this  would  have  been  passed  over  as 
of  little  consideration.  But  now  they 
were  determined  that  she  should  pay  dearly 
for  her  superiority. 


244  THE   KED    BRIDGE. 


Miss  Wallingford  having  desired  the 
Principal,  Mrs.  Harrison,  to  assign  her 
another  room,  as  she  no  longer  wished 
to  room  with  Miss  Winslow,  one  of  the 
youngest  and  most  uncongenial  pupils 
was  placed  with  Mary.  This,  she  felt 
was  not  only  unpleasant,  but  disrespect- 
ful, yet  her  sense  of  dependence  forbade 
her  remonstrance.  The  effect  of  these 
unpleasant  occurrences  was  to  renew  her 
zeal  in  acquiring  proficiency  in  her  studies, 
so  that  her  progress  continued  decidedly 
in  advance  of  all  her  classmates. 

It  was  now  the  close  of  the  second  term 
of  the  school  year.  There  was  an  undis- 
puted prospect  of  the  highest  honors  of 
the  senior  class  falling  to  Mary.  As  this 
class  was  more  numerous  than  any  pre- 
ceding one,  it  would  be  a  success  of  more 


REVERSES.  245 


than  ordinary  attraction.  And  this  would 
also  strengthen  her  claim  to  the  much- 
coveted  position  of  instructor,  she  reflect- 
ed with  much  satisfaction. 

The  present  vacation  was  to  be  a  short 
one,  and  Mary  resolved  to  improve  it  by 
recruiting  her  overtasked  energies.  Her 
room-mate  had  gone  home;  relief  from 
daily,  irksome  restraint  was  intensely  de- 
lightful, and  she  planned  the  accomplish- 
ment of  not  only  neglected  duties,  but  a 
few  simple  enjoyments,  one  of  which 
was  the  setting  in  order  her  plants  which 
reminded  her  of  the  dear  old  home  in 
Blendale. 

"  Then  like  a  bow  long  forced  into  a  curve, 
The  mind,  released  from  too  constrained  a  nerve, 
Flew  to  its  first  position  with  a  spring." 

It  was  the  second  evening  of  the  vaca- 

21* 


246  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


tion.  Mary  was  sitting  in  her  room,  look- 
ing over  some  old  letters  which  her  father 
had  written  her  when  she  was  scarcely 
more  than  a  child,  away  at  school,  when 
her  eyes  fell  upon  this  sentence,  penned 
by  the  beloved  hand  now  mouldered  to 
dust :  — "  My  dear  child,  it  is  by  trials 
we  ever  attain  true  success.  This  is  the 
inexorable  law  of  our  being.  Therefore, 
when  they  come  to  you,  remember,  how- 
ever sharp  and  strong  they  seem,  they 
are  a  part  of  the  divine  plan,  whereby,  in 
infinite  mercy,  you  may  conquer." 

"  I  did  not  understand  these  words, 
when  I  first  read  them,  nor  yet  fully  years 
after,"  she  thought ;  "  but  now,  it  must  be 
I  have  some  adequate  idea  of  their  real 
spirit  and  significance." 

A  knock  upon  her  door  interrupted  her 


REVERSES.  247 

reflections.  A  message  had  come  from 
Mrs.  Han'ison,  requesting  her  to  go  to 
that  lady's  room.  She  obeyed  with  a  glad 
heart,  for,  conscious  of  her  recent  success 
as  both  teacher  and  pupil,  she  thought 
that  the  interview  must  be  unusually 
pleasant.  "  Perhaps,"  she  reflected  quickly, 
"  she  is  going  to  make  an  arrangement,  • 
so  that  I  shall  be  allowed  a  little  com- 
pensation next  term,  in  order  to  defray 
the  increased  expenses  attending  my  grad- 
uation." 

On  entering  Mrs.  Harrison's  room,  she 
was  motioned  to  a  seat,  and  some  minutes 
elapsed  before  the  business  in  hand  was 
communicated.  That  lady  seemed  much 
preoccupied  with  the  examination  of  some 
papers  which  lay  on  the  desk  before  her. 
At   length,   raising    her    eyes,  while    they 


248  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


continued  partially  averted  from  Mary, 
she  said,  "  I  regret  that  I  have  unpleasant 
news  for  you.  Miss  Winslow." 

Mary  started,  and  a  cold  chill  struck 
her  heart,  for,  so  many  unexpected  shocks 
had  already  been  her  portion,  she  knew 
what  these  words  portended  more  than 
one  without  experience  could  have  fore- 
seen. 

"  And  yet,"  she  quickly  thought,  "  as 
Mrs.  Harrison  sometimes  indulges  in  a 
little  facetiousness,  it  is  possible  she  takes 
this  way  to  announce  exactly  the  con- 
trary of  what  her  words  signify." 

"  It  seems,"  continued  Mrs.  Harrison, 
now  turning  her  eyes  fuUy  upon  Mary, 
''  that  we  shall  be  obliged  to  dispense  with 
your  services  here." 

Mary    could    hardly    believe    that    she 


REVEKSES.  249 


heard  aright.  A  weight,  like  ice,  fell  upon 
her  spirit,  so  that  she  sat  motionless  with- 
out saying  a  word. 

"  Complaints  have  recently  been  brought 
to  me,  from  some  of  my  best  patrons, 
against  you,  so  that  it  will  be  for  the 
good  of  the  school,  and  for  aU  parties 
concerned,  to  have  our  present  connec- 
tion cease  at  this  time,"  continued  Mrs. 
Harrison. 

"  Complaints  against  me !  "  Mary  now 
found  voice  to  say,  while  the  expression 
of  her  countenance  affected  Mrs.  Har- 
rison, despite  aU  her  efforts  to  preserve 
entire  composure.  The  bruised  reed 
withered  suddenly  beneath  this  libation 
of  nitre.  That  powerful  acid  which  has 
a  solvent  power  over  gold,  the  king  of 
the  metals,  and  hence    derives    its    name 


250  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


of  aqua  re^ia^  finds  its  parallel  in  the 
sudden  announcement  of  bitter  import 
to  a  sensitive  and  superior  nature.  The 
imperial  waters  of  affliction,  when  held  to 
the  wan  and  rigid  lips,  have  a  taste 
of  the  olden  words  heard  by  the  stricken 
ones  in  the  garden, —  "In  sorrow  shalt 
thou  eat  of  it  all  the  days  of  thy  life." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  lady,  "  I  am  exceed- 
ingly sorry  to  learn  that  you  have  caused 
disaffection  among  many  of  our  ladies. 
The  course  you  have  taken  here  respect- 
ing temperance,  though  doubtless  well 
intended,  shows  an  error  in  judgment 
which  is  irreparable." 

"  This  surprises  me,"  returned  Mary, 
"  for  I  am  not  aware  of  any  such  intention. 
I  thought  I  had  used  unusual  caution,  and 
I  wondered    when    some   of   the    young 


REVERSES.  251 


ladies  seemed  to  take  offence  at  the 
colloquy." 

"Before  that,"  said  Mis.  Harrison,  -it 
appears  that  you  were  imprudent  in 
your  observations.  —  so  much  so  as  to 
wound  your  room-mate  and  Miss  Kice, 
with  some  others,  who  had  been  yoinr 
warm  friends.'' 

"  IVIiss  Rice  I "'  exclaimed  ]\Iarv,  "  there 
must  be  some  mistake,  for  I  certainly 
never  exchanged  a  vs'ord  with  her  upon 
ami:hing  which  had  any  relation  to  that 
subject" 

"  You  have  forgotten,"  obser^-ed  Airs. 
Harrison,  waving  her  hand,  impatiently; 
"for  Miss  Rice  is  a  lady  who  would  not 
be  guilty  of  falsehood.'' 

"  Did  she  tell  you  this  ?  **  inquired 
ISIary. 


252  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


"  It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  relate  to 
you  all  the  details  of  this  unpleasant 
affair,  Miss  Winslow,  but  I  have  author- 
ity when  I  say  that  you  have  offended 
Miss  Rice,  in  some  observations  respect- 
ing physicians  prescribing  ardent  spirits 
for  medicine." 

Mary  remembered  her  conversation 
with  Miss  Wallingford,  and  she  could 
now  account  for  her  former  friend's  cold- 
ness. She  related  the  circumstances  to 
Mrs.  Harrison,  who  listened,  apparently 
unmoved. 

"  It  appears,  likewise,"  continued  that 
lady,  "  that  some  of  the  characters  and 
scenes  in  your  colloquy  were  taken,  by  a 
number  of  persons  present,  as  most  inex- 
cusably personal." 

"  I    intended   to   represent   nothing  but 


REVERSES.  253 

what  T  had  learned  before  coming  to 
Blenheim,"  replied  Mary,  "  and  regret  to 
find,"  she  added,  with  a  touch  of  asperity 
in  her  tone,  "  that  the  coat,  so  innocently 
shapen,  proved  a  fit  to  any  person  here, 
and  especially  to  any  of  my  own  sex.  If 
they  had  not  acknowledged  the  fact,  I 
should  not  have  suspected  it.  The  course 
they  have  taken  towards  me  not  only 
illustrates  their  guilt,  but  their  unquali- 
fied meanness  and  inferiority  of  soul." 

"  This  is  not  an  occasion  for  recrimi- 
nating remarks  on  your  part,"  said  Mrs. 
Harrison,  "  for  I  cannot  allow  aspersions 
to  be  cast  upon  some  of  my  most  liberal 
and  respectable  patrons,  I  may  call  them. 
They  are  offended  so  as  to  threaten  to 
leave  the  school  if  you  do  not  withdraw, 
and  you  see  what  is  my  only  alternative." 

22 


254  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


"  Have  I  not  been  a  faithful  teacher 
since  my  stay  here  ? "  asked  Mary,  with 
renewed  feeling. 

"  You  have  done  very  well  in  your 
classes,"  said  Mrs.  Harrison,  coldly. 

"  I  must  be  allowed  to  say,"  continued 
Mary,  after  a  painful  silence,  "  that  this 
seems  very  hard  to  me.  Without  a 
home,  without  friends,  no  prospect  be- 
fore me  —  when  I  had  planned  to  stay 
here  and  graduate,  and  then  "  — 

Her  voice  failed. 

"  You  should  cultivate  self-control. 
Miss  Winslow;  though,  when  the  first 
ebullition  of  feeling  has  passed,  you  will, 
doubtless,  resume  your  accustomed  serene 
manner,  which,  I  must  say,  I  have  al- 
ways regarded  as  highly  creditable  to 
you." 


REVERSES.  ■  255 


"  It  is  now  so  late  in  the  season,  it  will 
be  impossible  for  me  to  secure  another 
situation  where  I  can  teach,  and  you  are 
already  aware  of  my  narrow  circum- 
stances," said  Mary. 

"  I  know  it  would  have  been  better 
for  you  to  have  known  this  before,"  said 
]\Irs.  Harrison,  "  but  I  thought,  to  avoid 
any  unpleasant  excitement,  it  would  be 
most  expedient  to  inform  you  after  the 
term  had  concluded.  Last  year,  when 
one  of  our  teachers  was  going  to  leave, 
there  was  so  much  confusion  in  getting 
up  a  presentation  for  her,  I  deemed  the 
most  quiet  course,  in  your  case,  the  best 
for  all  parties." 

Mary  looked  at  Mrs.  Harrison  steadily 
for  a  moment,  as  if  to  convince  herself 
that  she  was  not  mistaken  in  her  identity, 
then  said,  — 


256  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


"  May  the  time  never  come  to  you  or 
to  any  of  yours,  madam,  when  words 
will  smite  your  heart,  as  yours,  this  even- 
ing, have  smitten  mine." 

"  You  had  better  retire  now,''  said  Mrs. 
Harrison,  turning  white  about  her  lips, 
"  and  you  need  not  leave  here  for  two 
or  three  days,  if  you  do  not  find  it  con- 
venient before.     Good-eveaing." 

She  turned  her  back  and  resumed  the 
examination  of  her  papers. 

When  Mary  had  returned  to  her  room, 
the  great  disappointment  which  had 
come  to  her  seemed  weU-nigh  over- 
whelming. But  to  the  child  of  God  there 
is  a  present  help  in  time  of  trouble. 

The  moonlight,  which  streamed  into 
her  window,  fell  over  her  form  as  she 
knelt    there   in   her  Woe   and    desolation, 


REVERSES.  257 


and  poured  out  her  soul  in  prayer  to  God 
—  yea,  the  orphan's  God !  "  My  help 
Cometh  from  the  Lord,  which  made  heav- 
en and  earth,"  she  cried  in  the  language 
of  the  Psalmist,  "  He  shall  preserve  thy 
going  out  and  thy  coming  in  from  this 
time  forth,  and  even  for  evermore." 

For  hours  of  that  night  she  remained 
in  silent  communion  with  her  heavenly 
Father,  the  Keeper  of  Israel,  who  "  neither 
slumbers  nor  sleeps." 

At  last  there  came  to  her  mind  a  part 
of  an  old  hymn,  which  was  a  favorite  one 
with  her  father :  — 


And  manages  our  small  affairs  ; 
On  humble  souls  the  King  of  kings 
Bestows  his  counsels  and  his  cares. 

'  Our  son-ows  and  our  tears  we  pour 
Into  the  bosom  of  our  God ; 
22* 


258  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


He  hears  us  in  the  mournful  hour, 
And  helps  us  bear  the  heavy  load." 

She  was  partially  comforted.  Hope 
sprung  anew  in  her  fainting  soul,  for  she 
believed  that  her  present  affliction  was 
permitted  by  One  whose  eye  was  on 
her  lot,  and  who  would  cause  all  these 
things  to  work  together  for  her  good. 

K  the  prophet  Daniel,  in  the  gardens 
of  the  palace  of  Susa  and  on  the  banks 
of  the  Ulai^  saw  visions  which  clearly 
foreshadowed  the  career  of  Alexander,  how 
much  more  do  the  angels  of  these  little 
ones,  beholding  the  face  of  their  Father, 
contemplate  the  divine  plan^  and  al- 
though in  its  devious  windings  it  may 
display  a  strange  conjunction  with  seem- 
ing evil,  they  comprehend  all,  but  to  won- 
der, love,  and  praise  I 


REVERSES.  259 


"  Truly,"  may  the  devout  heart  exclaim, 
"  the  Lord  is  good  and  his  mercy  en- 
dure th  forever,  to  such  as  keep  his  cove- 
nant and  love  his  testimonies." 

"  I  wonder  how  she  feels  now,"  reflected 
her  enemies,  as  they  sat  in  thek  homes 
among  their  loved  ones,  — "  for  by  this 
time  she  knows  she  has  got  to  go  away 
from  Blenheim.  I  guess  she  will  conclude 
that  we  are  as  smart  and  powerful  as  she 
is." 

The  triumph  experienced  by  evil  and 
ignoble  minds  in  the  result  of  successful 
envy  and  base  revenge  constitutes  the 
keenest  joy  of  their  existence ;  but,  as  it 
is  the  nature  of  all  sinful  passions  to  soon 
consume  themselves  with  their  own  fires, 
leaving  only  the  ashes  of  satisfaction,  such 
triumph  is  short.      Godlike  passions,  alone 


260  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


possess  the  power  of  perpetual  life  and 
delight.  Love,  forgiveness,  mercy  have 
the  divine  element  of  immortal  good. 

If  any  one  is  disposed  to  doubt  this, 
let  him  open  the  soul  to  the  free  entrance 
of  these  angel-virtues ;  and  this,  not  alone 
in  beautiful  theory,  but  in  the  practical 
result  of  a  bitter  experience  of  wrong  ;  — 
then  shall  he  understand  that  the  richest 
and  most  profitable  of  aU  the  good  and 
perfect  gifts  which  come  from  the  Father 
of  lights,  is  even  that  embodied  in  the 
unequaled  words,  "  Forgive  them,  for  they 
know  not  what  they  do." 

Mary  had  many  friends,  but  none  to 
whom  she  felt  at  liberty  to  apply  for  ad- 
vice in  this  emergency,  but  Mrs.  Comfort. 
As  in  the  great  Prototype  of  sorrow,  it  may 
be  written  of  most  persons  in  their  conduct 


REVERSES.  261 


towards  the  one  who  is  suddenly  over- 
taken by  calamity,  —  "  they  all  forsook  him 
and  fled."  Some  souls  "stand  aloof  to 
see  what  will  come  of  it;"  if  anything 
transpires  to  render  the  side  of  the  suf- 
ferer popular,  they  are  loud  in  their  as- 
sertions of  favorable  regard;  but  if,  on 
the  contrary,  the  tide  of  fortune  appears 
to   bring   up    a   continued   augury  of   ill, 

—  "  they  always  thought  so,"  —  and  are 
careful  to  pass  by  on  the  other  side,  on 
the  principle  that  "  self-preservation  is  the 
first  law  of  nature." 

Mis.  Comfort,  however,  was  in  no  wise 
of  this  ilk.  Afraid  to  defend  the  cause 
of  the  innocent  and  meritorious,  however 
temporarily  overshadowed  by  dark  clouds  ? 

—  it  was  not  in  her  thought,  far  less  in 
her  practice  !     She  rather  gloried  in  tribu- 


262  THE   BED   BRIDGE. 


lations  both  for  herself  and  her  best  friends. 
They  offered  new  scope  for  the  exercise 
of  her  fertile  invention,  which  could  make 
the  most  and  the  best  of  difficulties ;  and 
never  was  her  cheery  laugh  heard  to  ring 
"like  the  true  metal"  as  when  she  found 
herself,  as  she  expressed  it,  "in  a  strait 
betwixt  two  evils,  —  one  on  each  side." 

She  therefore  lost  no  time  in  replying 
to  Mary's  note,  which  stated  her  difficul- 
ties, as  follows :  — 

"  My  deab  Gibl,  — 

"  It  is  an  ill-wind  that  blows  nobody 
any  good,  as  my  father  used  to  say.  Can't 
you  see  that  it  is  all  for  the  best,  which 
has  happened  to  you  at  Blenheim  ?  Your 
heavenly  Father  has  something  better  for 
you  to  do  than  to  stay  there  any  longer, 


EEVERSES.  263 


submitting  to  so  much  unpleasant  drudg- 
ery, and  so  he  pulls  you  out,  although 
it  goes  hard  to  your  present  feelings. 
What  your  enemies  meant  for  your  evil 
will  turn  out  for  your  good,  and  this,  I  dare 
say,  in  no  ordinary  degree.  There  are 
always  times  when  the  spirit  of  evil  ap- 
pears to  get  the  upper  hand ;  so  that,  as  I 
used  to  read  in  my  old  Spectator,  — 

"  '  The  cloves  are  censured,  while  the  crows  are  spared.' 

"  The  first  thing  you  had  better  do,  is 
to  pack  up  all  your  things ;  don^t  leave 
so  much  as  a  pin  behind,  and  come  righ' 
here  where  I  live  as  soon  as  ever  the 
cars  will  bring  you.  ^  If  they  persecute 
you  in  one  city,  flee  to  another,  and  shake 
off  the  dust  from  your  feet  as  a  testimony 
against  them.' 


264  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


"  I  met  that  young  committee-man  again, 
that  I  saw  in  the  coach  when  I  was  on 
my  way  to  visit  your  school  last  year.  It 
was  at  a  friend's  in  the  city.  His  name 
is  Alton,  I  believe.  He,  with  the  son  of 
my  old  friend,  had  been  out  to  attend 
some  public  affair  at  Blenheim,  a  few 
days  before.  He  spoke  of  you,  and  when 
he  found  that  I  knew  all  about  you,  he 
asked  me  forty-eleven  questions,  or  less. 
The  reason  he  gave  was  that  he  wished 
to  engage  a  teacher  to  assist  in  the  High 
School  in  his  place  of  residence,  and 
thought  you  would  be  just  the  one.  I 
told  him  I  thought  it  would  be  of  no  use 
to  ask  you  now  to  go,  as  you  intended  to 
remain  where  you  were  and  graduate. 

"  He  said  he  had  called  to  see  you  on 
the  day  following  that  evening ;  but  your 


REVERSES.  265 


room-mate  had  told  him  that  you  had  gone 
away. 

"  I  think  it  would  be  well  for  you  to 
wi'ite  to  this  Mr.  Alton  now,  and  let  him 
know  that  you  would  like  the  situation. 
I  hope  it  will  not  be  too  late. 

"  Whatever  shall  come,  keep  up  a  good 
heart,  and  a  stiff  elbow. 
"  In  haste, 

"  Yours,  in  all  lands  of  weather, 
"  Hannah  Comfort." 

Mary  received  this  welcome  letter  with 
a  glad  heart,  and  lost  no  time  in  address- 
ing Mr.  Alton,  respecting  the  school. 
Having  formally  applied  for  the  situation, 
she  stated  that  necessity  compelled  her  to 
engage  in  teaching  as  soon  as  possible, 
so  that  if  this  place  was  lost  to  her,  she 

23 


266  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


would  be  glad  to  secure  one  of  the  district 
schools  in  his  town,  adding  a  hope  that 
it  would  not  prove  too  late  in  the  season 
for  her  success. 

Mary  took  her  departure  from  Blenheim 
amid  the  tearful  benedictions  and  regrets 
of  all  the  domestics  of  the  establishment. 

"  What  can  have  happened  to  send  such 
a  lovely  young  lady  away  from  here ! " 
cried  one  to  another.  "  Never  the  likes  of 
her  shall  these  eyes  see  again,"  exclaimed 
the  Irish  cook.  "  Beautiful  creature ! 
may  the  saints  in  heaven  defend  her  from 
all  the  harm  in  this  life,  and  bring  her 
safe  to  dwell  in  heaven  at  last." 

These  words  from  her  humble  friends 
were  not  a  slight  consolation  to  her  wound- 
ed spirit. 

Mrs.  Comfort  was  now  engaged  in  tak- 


REVERSES.  267 


ing  a  few  select  boarders,  as  a  means  of 
obtaining  a  livelihood,  and  as  she  was  far 
from  being  bountifully  furnished  with 
provision  for  a  subsistence  in  her  declin- 
ing years,  Mary  keenly  realized  the  extent 
of  her  rare  kindness,  in  this  act  of  her 
hospitality.  It  was  her  frequent  prayer 
that  the  time  might  come  when  she  could 
repay  her  benevolent  fi'iend.  She  could 
ill  conceal  her  anxiety  to  hear  from  her 
application  to  IVIr.  Alton,  and  it  seemed 
that  she  would  become  a  victim  to  a  fit 
of  illness,  so  intense  was  her  suspense  at 
this  time. 

"  It  isn't  time  yet  for  a  reply  to  yom* 
letter  till  to-morrow  at  the  earliest,"  said 
Mrs.  Comfort ;  "  and  my  advice  to  you  is 
to  take  aU  the  peace  and  pleasure  you  can 
while  you  are  here." 


268  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


"  But  I  feel  that  I  am  such  a  burden  to 
you,"  said  Mary. 

"Fiddlesticks!"  cried  Mrs.  Comfort, 
"  I've  not  yet  got  so  old  that  a  grasshopper 
is  a  burden,  as  the  Scripture  says.  It 
seems  right  good  to  have  you  with  me. 
Since  my  daughters  married  and  went 
away,  I  miss  their  society  very  much,  and 
you  are  next  to  them  in  my  heart.  Now 
I  think  of  it,  I  don't  know  what  I  should 
have  done  these  days,  if  you  hadn't  been 
here  to  cheer  me  up." 

"  A  letter  for  you,  miss,"  said  the  car- 
rier, the  following  morning. 

Mary  took  it  with  trembling  fingers, 
while  the  color  quickly  forsook  her  face. 
She  recognized  the  handwriting,  at  a 
glance.  The  much  wished-for  intelli- 
gence was   now  about  to  come.     Would 


REVERSES.  269 


it  be  favorable  or  otherwise?  So  much 
was  depending  for  her,  she  had  hardly 
strength  to  open  it.     She  read  :  — 

"  HiGHBRiDGE,  April  5th,  186-. 

"Miss  Winslow:  — 

"  Dear  Friend,  —  for  such  may  I  ven- 
ture to  call  you  ? 

"  Yours  of  the  3d  inst.  is  received  and 
its  contents  noticed.  Allow  me  to  in- 
form you  that  the  vacancy  in  our  High 
School  has  just  been  filled.  All  the  dis- 
tricts, so  far  as  I  can  learn,  have  already 
engaged  their  teachers" 

Mary  saw  that  other  words  were  writ- 
ten, but  a  mist  came  before  her  eyes ; 
the   letters   swam   in   darkness. 

«  Why,  Mary !  what's  the  matter  ?  Are 
you    going  to  faint   away?"    cried   Mrs. 

23* 


270  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


Comfort,    who    sat    attentively   watching 
her  countenance. 

When  Mary  recovered  her  conscious- 
ness, she  found  herself  lying  on  a  lounge 
in  Mrs.  Comfort's  own  room,  while  that 
lady  sat  beside  her,  laughing  so  immod 
erately,  Mary  scarcely  knew  whether  to 
be   astonished   or   grieved. 

"  Dreadful  strange  things  come  to  pass 
when  we  least  expect  them ! "  said  Mrs. 
Comfort,  bestirring  herself  to  induce  Mary 
to  take  another  draft  of  the  peppermint- 
tea  which   her  maid   had   brought. 

"  Mrs.  Comfort !  how  can  you  find  a 
heart  to  make  light  of  my  misfortune, 
though  you  are  so  cheerful  generally ! " 
said  Mary,  now  yielding  to  a  gush  of 
tears  for  the  first  time  since  she  had 
been   called  to   this   series   of  trouble. 


REVERSES.  271 


"  Do  you  know,"  she  sobbed,  "  that  he 
offers  me  no  prospect  of  a  situation  ?  " 

"  As  soon  as  I  saw  that  you  were 
coming-to  in  Bridget's  arms,  I  took  up 
the  terrible  letter  and  hastily  ran  over  its 
contents.  You  did  not  read  far  enough, 
child." 

Another  laugh,  accompanied  by  a  queer 
look  of  satisfaction,  caused  Mary  to  in- 
quire if  he  had  mentioned  any  other 
place  where  a   situation  was   obtainable? 

"  He  has  made  you  an  offer  of  some- 
thing better  than  a  school,"  said  Mrs. 
Comfort,  handing   her   the   letter. 

"  What  can   it  be  ? "   asked   Mary. 

"  Read  for  yourself,  now,  and  forgive 
me  for  getting  the  news  first,"  replied 
Mi's.    Comfort. 

Yes,  it  was  true ;  something  better  than 


272  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


a  school  was  offered  to  Mary  in  that  let- 
ter, —  even  the  heart,  the  hand,  the  home 
of  Harry  Alton.  It  seemed  that  he,  too, 
was  an  orphan,  without  brother  or  sister, 
but  with  an  inheritance,  which  the  people 
of  Highbridge  used  to  call  "as  rich  as 
a  Jewj"  she  remembered.  His  home  was 
that  mansion  on  the  hill  overlooking  the 
village,  towards  which  she  had  sometimes 
cast  her  eyes,  on  wending  her  way  to 
church,  when  she  taught  the  lonely  dis- 
trict school,  and  thought  the  owner  must 
indeed  have  cause  for  gratitude.  And, 
as  she  saw  him  among  the  people  of 
God  when  they  observed  the  sacrament 
of  the  Lord's  Supper,  she  said  in  her 
heart,  that  the  crown  of  his  good  fortune, 
was  his  fidelity  to  goodness  and  truth. 
Now,    in   the    hour    of    her    utter    ex- 


REVERSES.  273 

tremity,  all  this,  with  the  pure  and 
noble  heart  in  unison  with  her  own  con- 
cerning those  interests  so  dear  to  her,  was 
laid  at  her  disposal,  in  language  so  deli- 
cate and  considerate  of  her  feelings,  noth- 
ing more  could  be  desired.  Was  she  not 
dreaming?  There  were  the  words  before 
her,  and  there,  too,  was  Mrs.  Comfort 
with  such  a  cheery  face,  no  words  can 
do   it   the  least   shadow  of  justice. 

"  What  do  you  think  now,  Mary  ?  Does 
God  desert  thOse  who  put  their  trust  in 
him  ?  Is  he  not  even  better  than  his 
most  excellent  word  ?  "  she  said. 

"  When  my  husband  died  in  the  midst 
of  a  prosperous  people,  who  seemed  to 
think  everything  of  him  as  their  pastor, 
and  left  me  with  young  children,  it  did 
seem  rather  dark  to  me.     We  w^ere  poor. 


274  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


and  my  health  was  quite  miserable  then. 
But  I  was  enabled  to  hope  and  toil  on. 
My  boy,  on  whom  I  depended  to  see  me 
through  in  my  old  age,  was  taken  next. 
One  after  another  they  were  called  home, 
—  all  but  my  two  youngest  daughters,  the 
last  of  whom  was  married  last  year  to 
a  minister.  I  have  a  great  deal  to  be 
thankful  for,  and  I've  made  it  the  rule 
of  my  life  to  make  the  best  of  every- 
thing, and  to  love  everybody,  so  far  as  I 
could.  But  it's  been  dreadful  hard  work 
sometimes." 

Mary  had  many  things  in  her  over- 
flowing heart  which  she  would  have  said 
to  Mrs.  Comfort,  in  this  moment;  but 
she  durst  not  trust  her  voice  to  speak. 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands, 
and  silently  prayed. 


IX. 

fT   was  one  of   the    coldest   mornings 
^   of    the   cold    winter    succeeding   the 
^    events  of  the  last  chapter,  that  Mary 
bade  good-morning  to  her  husband  as  he 
started  for  his  office, 

"  It  is  going  to  be  a  stormy  day,*'  he 
said,  ^'  and  you,  with  Mrs.  Comfort,  must 
see  to  it  that  Margaret  keeps  the  house 
warm,  and  especially  the  conservatory,  so 
that  the  plants  do  not  freeze." 

"  I  wouldn't  have  the  three,  that  Mary 
used  to  keep  at  Blenheim,  freeze,  for  the 
price  of  a  term's  tuition  there,"  said  Mrs. 
Comfort,  laughing. 

(275) 


276  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


"  No ;  they  must  be  nursed  to  keep 
her  memory  green,"  replied  Mr.  Alton. 

"  Be  careful  that  you  yourself  don't 
freeze  to-day  on  the  street,"  said  Mary, 
as  she  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

She  went  to  the  window  to  look  after 
him,  as  he  made  his  way  amid  the  hur- 
rying clouds  of  snow  which  flew  around 
his  slippery  pathway. 

"  It  is  a  dreadful  day,"  said  Mary,  "  and 
how  glad  I  am,  my  dear  Mrs.  Comfort, 
that  you  came  to  live  with  us  before  this 
severe  weather." 

"  And  I,  too,  am  glad,  I  guess,  to  get 
rid  of  keeping  house  for  myself  this  cold 
winter  of  high  prices.  But,  Mary,  what 
put  it  into  your  head  to  send  for  me  just 
the  time  of  all  others  when  it  did  me 
most  good  to  come  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Comfort. 


THE  BOTTLED   MANUSCRIPT.  277 


"  The  same  good  spirit  who  directed 
you  to  be  so  kind  to  me,  when  I  most 
requii'ed  your  aid  and  comfort.  '  What- 
soever measure  ye  mete,  it  shall  be  meas- 
ured to  you  again,' "  was  Mary's  reply. 

Mrs.  Comfort's  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  It  is  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  you  look 
in  that  way,"  said  Mary  ;  "  it  is  my  turn, 
now,  to  administer  joy  and  consolation  to 
you.  While  I  have  a  home,  be  assured, 
my  good  friend,  you  shall  never  want  that 
blessing.  You  have  come  here  now,  Provi- 
dence permitting,  to  spend  the  remainder 
of  your  days.  You  may  go  out  on  visits 
to  your  relatives  and  friends  whenever 
you  so  please,  but  here  is  to  be  your 
abode,  the  sanctuary  of  yom-  home-loves 
and   interests." 

"  But   come  here  to  the  window,"  con- 

24 


278  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


tinned  Mary,  in  another  tone,  for  she  per- 
ceived that  Mrs.  Comfort  was  much  affect- 
ed. "  See  how  the  snow  wreaths  itself 
around  the  head  of  that  poor,  struggling 
traveler.  He  looks  almost  exhausted  in 
his  combat  with  the  storm.  His  long 
white  hair  blowing  in  the  blast  about  his 
haggard  face  gives  him  the  appearance  of 
some  genius  of  the  storm  such  as  I  have 
seen  in  pictures  of  winter.  His  clothes  are 
so  poor  and  scanty,  the  cold  must  pene- 
trate even  to  his  very  life.  He  is  coming 
into  our  avenue." 

At  this  moment  a  tap  on  the  door  of  the 
parlor  was  succeeded  by  the  appearance  of 
Margaret,  the  Irish  serving-maid. 

'*  An  sure,  ma'am,  there's  a  baste  of  a 
villainous  thafe  a-coming  in,  an  shan't  I 
be  afther  a-lockin'  all  the  doors  ? "  she 
asked,  excitedly. 


THE   BOTTLED    MANUSCRIPT.  279 


"  He  is  suffering  from  the  cold,  I  pre- 
sume." said  Mary,  "  and  we  must  not  turn 
him  away,  especially  such  a  day  as  this, 
until  he  is  warmed  and  fed." 

INIargaret  went  away,  muttering  about 
the  dangerous  thafe,  yet  with  enough  good 
humor  remaining  to  cause  her  to  go  to  the 
door  and  admit  the  stranger  to  her  kitchen 
fire. 

"  I  must  go  out  and  see  how  Margaret 
comes  on  with  her  guest,"  said  Mary  to 
Mrs.  Comfort,  a  few  minutes  after. 

Mary  found  the  man  trembling  violent- 
ly, while  his  ungloved  hands  which  ap- 
peared unusually  delicate,  were  extended 
towards  the  stove.  His  head  was  bowed 
down  and  he  seemed  to  be  talking  in  a 
low  tone  to  himself.  For  a  time  she 
could  not  distinguish  what    he  said,  but 


280  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


she  addressed  him,  when  he  seemed  suf- 
ficiently composed. 

"  You  found  it  very  cold  walking  this 
morning.    I  hope  you  have  not  far  to  go  ?  " 

"  Tor  as  when  merchants  break,  o'erthrown 
Like  ninepins,  they  strike  others  down,' 

were  the  words  of  the  poet.  Madam,  you 
have  heard  of  the  poet  ?  Well,  he  knew 
how  a  man  felt  when  he  was  struck 
down." 

At  the  sound  of  his  full  voice,  Mary 
started.  There  was  a  familiar  tone  which 
fell  upon  her  ears.  Whose  was  it  like  ? 
But,  as  he  remained  with  his  head  down,  so 
that  his  face  was  nearly  concealed  by  his 
slouched  hat,  she  could  only  conjecture  the 
stamp  of  the  man  whose  words  were  so 
unusual. 


THE   BOTTLED   MANUSCRIPT.  281 


"  He  is  clane  daft,"  whispered  Margaret, 
"  for  sure  if  he  wasn't  beside  hisself,  he'd 
niver  be  after  talkin'  the  likes  o'  that, 
ma'am." 

"  Wont  you  have  something  warm  to 
take,  —  some  ginger  tea  ?  "  now  asked 
Mary. 

"  Something  to  drink  ?  Ah !  woman 
of  the  delicate  brow,  you  don't  know 
what  you  say.  Something  to  drink  has 
brought  me  where  you  see  me  now." 

He  had  lifted  his  eyes  fuUy  upon  hers, 
so  that  she  could  see  his  face. 

"  I  am  what  I  was  not.  I  am  poor, 
perishing,  wretched.  I  was  once  rich, 
munificent,  flourishing,  joyous.  It  doesn't 
take  long  for  liquor  to  bring  a  man  where 
you   see   me   to-day,  without    a   home  or 

24* 


282  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


friends.  But  my  home  was  once  better 
than  yours." 

"  I  know  it,"  replied  Mary,  in  a  calm 
voice,  though  her  heart  was  ready  to  cry 
out  in  its  surprise  and  grief.  She  saw 
that  the  poor  wayfarer  was  crazed,  and 
she  wished  for  time  to  reflect  on  what 
course  it  was  best  to  pursue.  He  was 
recognized.  It  was  her  old  guardian, 
even  Gilbert  Jameson!  But  it  must  not 
be  known,  at  least  by  her  serving-maid. 

''Where  is  your  home  now?"  she  in- 
quired. 

"  A  certain  passenger  at  sea,"  says  the 
old  fable,  "  had  the  curiosity  to  ask  the 
pilot  of  the  vessel  what  part  of  the  world 
he  called  his  home  ?  Replied  the  pilot,  — 
'  'Tis  where  the  angel  in  the  Revelations 
was,  —  one  foot  on  the  land,  the  other  on 


THE  BOTTLED   MANUSCRIPT.  283 


the  sea.'  Thus,  madam,  is  it  with  me.  I, 
B  flat,  live  at  C  sharp,  and  L  long,  reversed." 

Every  other  question  which  Mary  asked, 
in  order  to  learn  something  of  his  present 
history,  was  answered  in  a  similar  style. 

He  did  not  seem  to  know  her  ;  and  of 
this  she  was  glad. 

At  last  he  asked  for  a  cup  with  a  little 
water,  which  being  given  him,  he  with- 
drew a  bottle  from  his  pocket,  and  pour- 
ing out  some  whiskey,  mixed  it  with  the 
water.  Half  afraid  to  remonstrate  with 
a  man  out  of  his  senses,  Mary  hesitated 
to  speak  the  words  which  trembled  upon 
her  tongue.  But  when  she  saw  him  pre- 
pare to  drink  it  off,  and  remembered  the 
fearful  night  when  she  had  watched  him 
in  a  fit  of  delirium  tremens,  she  felt  that 
something  might  now  be  ventured. 


284  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


With  prayer  to  God  for  strength  in 
her  heart,  she  fixed  her  eye  steadily  upon 
his,  and  said,  in  a  decided  voice,  — 

"  Sir !  hear  me  now  a  moment.  It  was 
but  a  few  years  since  you  were  a  gentle- 
man with  those  about  you  who  looked  up 
to  you  with  regard.  Strong  drink  has 
brought  you  where  you  now  are." 

"  But  I  lost  all  my  property  by  being 
bound,"  he  interrupted. 

"  Had  you  not  drank  so  as  to  have  im- 
paired your  judgment,  you  would  not 
have  been  bound  to  such  a  ruinous 
extent." 

"How  know  you  that?" 

"  I  know  it,  and  you  know  it.  Now, 
why  will  you  continue  to  take  the  poison 
which  has  reduced  you  to  this  ?  Why 
not  stop  right  where  you  are,  and  try  and 


THE  BOTTLED   MANUSCRIPT.  285 


redeem  that  you  have  lost?  There  is 
hope  even  at  the  eleventh  hour!" 

"  Woman,  you  talk  well,"  he  replied, 
"  but  you  are  not  so  old  as  you  will  be 
if  you  live  long  enough.  The  die  is  cast. 
I  sink  lower  and  lower  every  day  of  my 
life.  I  can  no  longer  swim.  Not  many 
more  days  of  wretchedness  remain  for 
me.  So  long  have  I  indulged  in  this 
habit,  which  I  allow  is  the  ruin  of  him 
who  once  weU  fixes  it  in  his  soul,  I  can- 
not turn  about  now.  There  is  a  snake 
gnawing  at  my  vitals  every  moment,  and 
the  only  way  I  can  keep  him  firom  eating 
through  to  the  seat  of  life  is  to  Kquor 
him  every  hour.  But,  for  aU  that,  he  gains 
on  me.  He  will  kill  me  before  long.  Yes, 
I  must  drink  or  die." 

And  he  poured  down  the  liquor  with- 


286  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


out  stopping  for  a  respiration,  so  eager 
was  he  for  the  fatal  draught  of  slow 
poison. 

''  Let  me  go  to  your  stable  and  lie  on 
the  hay,"  he  said,  when  the  fumes  of  the 
liquor  began  to  steal  to  his  brain.  "  It  is 
cold,  I  know,  but  I  feel  warm  now.  The 
fire  within  me  burns  on  through  summer's 
heat  and  winter's  cold.  The  sky  overhead 
is  wrathful  to-day.  My  head  is  now  bound 
with  what  Humboldt  calls  —  do  you  hear, 
lady  ?  —  '  differently     inflected     isothermal 


"  Sure  ma'am,  isn't  yees  afeard  of  a 
crater  likes  o'  that  ?  "  said  Margaret,  in  a 
low  voice.  But  Mary  only  sighed  in  re- 
ply. She  remembered  there  was  a  lounge 
in  the  warm  conservatory,  and  thither  she 
told  him  to  go  and  sleep  for  a  while.     She 


THE   BOTTLED   MANUSCRIPT.  287 


could  not  assign  him  who  had  once  given  her 
a  good  home,  to  the  place  which  he  asked. 

"  An'  it's  mighty  quare  that  mistress 
takes  so  much  care  of  the  puir  drinkin' 
crater,"  said  Margaret. 

"  "Why  Mary ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Com- 
fort, "  How  dare  you  trust  a  stray  fellow 
out  of  his  head,  in  a  place  like  that ! " 

"  Have  you  not  often  said  that  we 
should  make  the  best  of  everything  and 
love  everybody  ?  "    replied  Mary. 

When,  a  short  time  after,  she  opened 
the  glass  door  and  looked  in  upon  him, 
he  was  soundly  asleep.  Picture  of  wretch- 
edness !  There  he  lay  with  his  hat  un- 
der his  head,  his  finely-shaped  brow  nearly 
concealed  with  his  uncombed,  slTagghng 
locks  of  gray  hair,  his  coat  old  and  torn, 
—  but  his  face, —  Oh!  the  expression  of 


288  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


the  sleeping  drunkard !  What  pencil,  save 
that  which  was  dipped  in  the  lurid  hues 
of  an  anaconda's  blood,  could  ever  do  ifc 
justice !  The  angel  of  the  apocalypse  who 
poured  out  his  vial  to  scorch  men  with 
fire,  had  passed  by  and  overshadowed 
him  with  his  fearful  plague.  Unrest,  de- 
spair, with  a  gnawing  consciousness  of 
the  nobler  destiny  which  might  have  been 
his  own,  are  chiselled  with  deep  furrows 
and  hideous  angles  upon  his  pountenance, 
while  the  spots  of  the  leprous  taint  of  sin 
heighten  the  woful  effect. 

"  Oh  ye  who  think  that  a  draught  of 
good  liquor  is  what  is  right  and  pleasant, 
now  and  then,"  exclaimed  Mary  to  her- 
self, "  and  ye  who  drink  with  the  dinner 
because  it  is  in  becoming  style  with  your 
rank,  and  ye  who  laugh  at  the  warnings 


THE  BOTTLED   MANUSCRIPT.  289' 


against  the  cheering  dram  when  tired  and 
dispirited,  —  all  ye  who  deem  abstinence 
from  liquor  a  mild  delusion  of  certain  in- 
feriorly-constituted  minds,  —  would  that  ye 
could  come  now  and  behold  this  picture,  — 
no!  this  living  reality  which  I  now  see, 
—  this  great  and  terrible  blot  upon  the  else 
fair  scene  around  me  I 

"  Here,  amidst  these  luxuriant  plants 
and  fragrant,  delicate  flowers,  which  bend 
gracefully  beneath  their  burdens  of  waxen 
beauty  or  roseate  glow  like  the  hearts  of 
the  fairest  sea-shells ;  these  long  sprays  of 
bell-shapen  blooms  with  their  tiny  treas- 
ures of  gold ;  these  thick  and  ever-aspiring 
vines,  clambering  over  their  trellises  of 
wire  and  rosewood ;  these  great  urns  from 
which  wander  the  greenest  of  moss,  vying 
with    the    richest,    costliest    velvet,  —  lies 

25 


290  THE  RED    BRIDGE. 


this  fallen  man,  whose  nature  is  divinely 
originated  and  whose  talents  were  ranked 
with  the  highest  quality  of  intellect,  —  lies 
like  an  idiot,  a  madman,  demented,  be- 
sotted, ruined,  all  for  this  one  fatal  cause, 
Intemperance ! 

"  Would  that  the  eyes  of  the  whole 
world  could  be  infixed  as  a  single  eye  and 
here  behold  for  itself!  " 

She  went  and  brought  a  warm  woollen 
blanket,  which  she  threw  over  the  wretched 
figure,  and  turned  away  to  commune  with 
her  own  heart  in  its  grief.  Then  she 
thought  of  the  sacred  words  which  she 
had  once  read  to  her  brother :  "  For 
they  have  made  ready  their  heart  like  an 
oven,  while  they  lie  in  wait:  their  baker 
sleepeth  all  the  night,  in  the  morning  it 
burneth  as  a  flaming  fire." 


THE  BOTTLED   MANUSCRIPT.  291 


"  He  held  the  cup  to  my  poor  brother's 
lips,"  she  reflected,  "  and  now  he  reaps 
the  curse.  But  I  forgive  him,  and  would 
gladJy  spare  him  the  punishment  which 
God,  in  his  fearful  judgment,  wrings  out 
to  him.  Oh  that  it  were  in  my  power 
to  save  him ! " 

An  hour  later  she  went  and  looked  in 
at  the  glass  door.  Still  he  slept.  She 
then  placed  a  small  stand  near  him,  on 
which  were  arranged  several  dishes  of 
tempting  food,  that  when  he  awoke  he 
might  partake  of  them  without  con- 
straint. 

Requesting  Mrs.  Comfort  to  have  him 
in  charge,  she  put  on  her  warmest  gar- 
ments and  went  out,  notwithstanding  the 
inclemency  of  the  weather.  Her  errand 
was  to  see  her  husband  in  his  office,  for 


292  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


she  wished  to  communicate  to  him  what 
no  other  of  her  household  must  know. 
Not  another  lady  had  ventured  out,  and 
the  few  gentlemen  she  met  on  her  way 
stared  as  though  it  must  be  an  important 
affair  to  bring  her  forth  that  day.  But, 
when  the  burden  which  now  weighed 
upon  her  heart  impelled  her,  she  was 
equally  indifferent  to  the  cold  blast,  or  the 
look  of  curious  surprise. 

Her  husband  did  not  disappoint  her  in 
this  emergency.  The  noble  heart  of  Harry 
Alton  was  true  to  her  highest  convictions 
of  duty.  He,  who  had  once  befriended  her 
when  a  needy  orphan,  should  now  find 
friends  who  would  mete  out  to  him,  un- 
mindful of  his  degradation. 

He  had  thrown  on  his  overcoat  and 
was    preparing    to    accompany  her  home, 


THE  BOTTLED   MANUSCRIPT.  293 


when  his  officc'door  opened  and  a  stran- 
ger, heavily  muffled,  walked  in. 

"How  are  you,  sir?  Are  you  an  at- 
torney ? "  he  asked  in  hurried,  decided 
tones. 

"  I  am,"  returned  Alton,  surveying  the 
man  Y\rith  some  attention,  as  he  handed 
him  a  chair  near  the  stove. 

"  I  am  in  pursuit  of  a  thief,  just  rode 
out  from  the  city,  and  have  tracked  him 
as  far  as  this  village.     I  want  a  writ." 

"  What  was  he  like  ?  "  asked  Alton. 

" '  Like  nobody  ever  seen  round  here  be- 
fore,' said  the  man  he  stole  the  liquor  from. 
He  dealt  in  poetry  by  the  ounce,  and  I 
should  think  he  was  crazy,  if  he  hadn't 
got  possession  of  the  whiskey  so  like  a 
man  who  had  full  use  of  his  brains,  and 
a  good  deal  of  them,  too." 

25* 


294  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


Mary  looked  at  her  husband,  from  her 
position  partially  obscured  from  the  con- 
stable, and  motioned  him  to  come  that 
way.  While  he  continued  talking,  she 
WTote  on  a  paper  which  lay  under  his 
eyes  :  "  It  is  my  old  guardian.  Save  him, 
if  you  can." 

"  Why  didn't  you  get  your  writ  made 
out  in  the  city  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  In  too  big  a  hurry  to  stop.  I  thought 
I  should  overtake  him,  it  was  so  cold  and 
stormy,  if  I  got  right  off  without  any  de- 
lay. But  somehow  he  got  on  another 
road,  I  guess,  took  a  shorter  cut,  or  may 
be  he  started  sooner  than  we  thought  for.'* 

Mary  had  no  sooner  written  those  words 
for  her  husband  than  she  went  out. 
Hastening  home,  she  hurriedly  inquired 
of  Margaret  where  the  stranger  was  ? 


THE   BOTTLED   MANUSCRIPT.  295 


"  He's  after  going  a  good  bit  ago, 
ma^am.  When  he  came  to  hisself  again, 
T  told  him  he  might  ate  the  feed  yeVl 
put  there  for  him.  He  put  a  sup  of  the 
tay  into  his  mouth,  and  some  of  the  mate 
into  his  pocket,  and  said  he  must  be  after 
gitting  along,  thin.  He  asked  for  the 
leddy  of  the  house,  and  whin  Pd  be  tellin 
you'd  be  gone  out,  ma'am,  he  axed  for  a 
bit  o'  paper  and  a  pen  to  write  with.  An' 
he  writes  the  like  of  what  I  niver  see 
afore,  and  Mrs.  Comfort  is  sayin'  that 
same  herself." 

"  Where  is  it  ?  "  inquired  Mary. 

Mrs.  Comfort  brought  it  at  this  moment. 
Mary  saw  that  it  was  a  writing  in  ci- 
pher, the  same,  she  remembered,  that  Mr. 
Jameson  had  once  taught  her  to  use. 
After  some  study,  she  recalled  the  key, 
and  read  as  follows :  — 


296  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


"My  dear  old  ward,  I  have  stumbled 
whither  I  would  not.  I  go  hence  that  I 
may  not  disgrace  you.  Hippasus  and 
Heraclitus  both  taught  that  fire  is  the 
principle  of  all  things.  If  so,  I  am  a  man 
of  principle,  although  they  hunt  me  as  a 
thief,  and  hoot  me  as  a  drunkard.  Fare- 
well, my  child ;  God  reward  you  for  your 
kindness  to  your  miserable  guardian." 

Meantime,  Mr.  Alton  referred  the  consta- 
ble to  a  trial  justice  for  a  writ.  That  per- 
son being  absent,  he  was  obliged  to  hasten 
on  to  the  next  one,  who  resided  in  a  neigh- 
boring town. 

Where  the  poor  crazed  wanderer  betook 
himself,  no  information  could  be  obtained, 
though  it  was  supposed  he  had  concealed 
himself  in  some  of  the  comparatively  com- 
fortable  barns   of    the   vicinity,   until    the 


THE   BOTTLED    MANUSCRIPT.  297 


excitement  had  subsided  and  the  storm  was 
over. 

As  Mary  stood  at  the  window  that  night 
and  gazed  out  into  the  darkness,  which  was 
only  relieved  by  the  light  that  dimly  strug- 
gled out  from  the  angry  and  hurrying 
clouds,  and  heard  the  boisterous  wind  roar 
over  the  hills  and  around  her  own  roof 
which  sheltered  so  much  comfort  and  hap- 
piness, she  pressed  her  cheek  against  the 
cold  pane  and  sighed  to  herself,  "  Sm-ely 
the  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard ! " 

For  days  and  nights  succeeding  this  sor- 
rowful encounter  with  her  former  guardian, 
she  partially  expected  his  return  ;  but  he 
came  not.  She  then  addressed  a  letter  to 
his  sister,  informing  her  of  his  appearance 
at  her  house,  but  as  she  had  several  times 
written  to  that  lady  since  leaving  her,  and 


f 

298  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


never  had  received  a  reply,  she  had  now 
little  hope  of  intelligence  from  that  quarter. 
But,  at  last  the  letter  was  returned  to  her 
by  the  Postmaster  of  Yelfield,  with  the  in- 
formation that  Miss  Eliza  Jameson  had 
been  dead  for  some  months. 

Before  the  snows  of  winter  had  fully  left 
the  hill-tops  and  the  shadowy  places  by  the 
hedges  and  woods,  Mary  saw  in  one  of 
the  daily  papers  an  account  of  the  body 
of  a  man  found  on  the  outskirts  of  the  un- 
frequented side  of  the  forest,  which  lay  to 
the  north  of  a  neighboring  town.  It  stated 
that  the  man  had  probably  wandered  thith- 
er in  a  fit  of  intoxication,  where  he  had 
lain  down  and  frozen  to  death.  By  his 
side  was  a  bottle  in  which,  strange  to  relate, 
was  a  closely  rolled  manuscript  written  in 
cipher. 


THE   BOTTLED   MANUSCRIPT.  299 


The  key  to  this  writing  no  one  could  un- 
derstand, but  it  was  preserved  by  the  coro- 
ner who  held  inquest  over  the  body,  so  that 
if  any  persons  should  identify  the  individ- 
ual, the  manuscript  would  be  at  their  dis- 
posal. A  handkerchief  in  the  pocket  of 
the  dead   man,  bore   the  initials,  "  G.  J." 

Mary  immediately  knew  that  this  was 
no  other  than  her  poor,  old  guardian.  Her 
husband  sent  for  the  manuscript,  and,  as 
she  had  supposed,  the  cipher  was  easily 
translated  by  herself.  The  following  was 
what  Gilbert  Jameson  had  written,  proba- 
bly on  the  day  he  died :  — 

"  Now  I  am  at  the  end  of  the  lona:  red 
bridge  and  see  what  is  before  me,  I  can 
comprehend  what  formerly  was  partially 
enveloped  in  a  mist.  When  I  was  a 
boy  I  dreamed  that  I  stood  on  the  brink 


300  THE   KED    BRIDGE. 


of  the  deep  and  rushing  river  of  L'fe,  over 
which  spanned  two  bridges.  The  first 
and  narrowest  of  these  bridges  was  like 
the  purest  white  marble,  its  crystal  arches 
set  with  jewels  with  a  key-stone  as  one 
diamond,  and  all  of  its  many  pieces  were 
of  solid  gold. 

'*  The  other  bridge  was  of  a  glittering 
red  color;  its  arches  were  of  twisted 
black  wood,  with  a  key-stone  as  of  a 
snake' s-head,  and  the  piers  were  the 
sculptured  forms  of  grinning  satyrs. 

""  I  stood  contemplating  the  two  bridges 
in  order  to  decide  which  I  had  better 
choose  for  my  own  passage  over.  As 
there  were  several  connections  estab- 
lished all  the  way  along  the  bridges,  until 
the  last  section  of  each,  so  that  the  way- 
farers, if  tired  of  one,  could  pass  over  to 


THE   BOTTLED   MANUSCRIPT.  301 


the  other,  it  did  not  appear  a  great  mat- 
ter which  I  did  start  upon.  As  far  as 
my  eye  could  reach,  there  seemed  many 
more  persons  on  the  red  bridge  than  on 
the  white  one,  and  so  there  were  much  ex- 
citement and  pleasure  in  this  route,  w^hile 
the  other  looked  cold  and  comfortless 
with  its  crystals  and  marble. 

"  I  was  just  stepping  my  foot  on  the  red 
bridge,  when  a  grave-looking  man  came 
up  and  gently  touching  my  hand,  said 
to  me,  '  Young  man !  beware  of  this 
bridge !  You  will  find  it  safe  to  take  the 
other.'  '  But  I  can  cross  over  to  the  other 
any  time,  if  I  get  sick  of  this,  as  I  go 
along,'  I  replied,  considerably  annoyed  at 
this  interference  with  what  I  considered 
my  right  of  choice.  '  It  is  the  dangerous 
nature  of  this   bridge,'  he   said,  'to  fasci- 


302  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


nate  those  who  once  walk  thereon,  so  that, 
although  they  may  know  their  peril  ahead, 
they  are  impelled  sometimes  it  would 
seem  by  an  invisible  whirlwind,  and  they 
fly  along  over  the  way,  without  power 
to  break  through  the  cruel  charm  and  es- 
cape to  the  other  bridge.  It  affects 
different  persons  variously.  Sometimes 
they  are  charmed  with  a  power  which 
causes  them  to  go  slowly  for  a  time,  and 
then  their  feet  acquire  such  an  artificial 
accommodation  to  the  way,  that  they 
feel  it  would  be  impossible  for  them  to 
break  away  and  cross  over  to  the  white 
bridge.' 

" '  But  I  see  some  now  crossing  over,'  I 
cried  in  exultation.  '  They  will  have  the 
pleasure  and  the  benefit  of  an  experience 
on  both  the  bridges.' 


THE  BOTTLED   MANUSCRIPT.  303 


"'True,'  said  the  grave  personage  at  my 
right  shoulder,  '  a  few,  resolutely  looking 
upward  for  strength  have  the  will-power  to 
quit  this  dangerous  passage  before  it  is  too 
late.  And  such  afterwards  go  on  their 
way  over  the  fair,  clean,  white  bridge,  re- 
joicing and  shouting  to  their  old  friends 
on  the  red  bridge  to  come  over  likewise 
before  they  get  along  so  far  they  will  lose 
all  power  to  do  so.  For  you  must  know 
it  is  also  the  nature  of  this  fatal  route  to 
cause  its  patrons  to  acquire  ease  in  progress 
with  every  foot  of  the  way,  till  near  the 
last  they  get  to  going  with  such  perfect 
adaptation,  no  human  voice  can  aiTest 
their  attention  sufficient  to  induce  them 
to  change.' 

"  'You  will  also  observe  at  this  moment,' 
spoke  the  warning  voice  of  the  man,  '  that 


304  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


some  who  had  crossed  over  to  the  white 
bridge,  have  got  sick  of  the  new  and  better 
way,  and  are  now  crossing  back  to  the  old, 
fatal  track.  Oh  that  I  could  shout  in 
their  ears  —  Beware  of  the  end  !  Come 
now,  young  man,  be  warned  by  these  poor, 
deluded  ones,  and  start  aright.^ 

" '  I  guess  not,'  I  replied,  '  since  my 
father  and  many  other  friends  have  gone 
on  this  bridge.  Besides,  there  are  almost 
all  my  young  friends  who  take  this  way, 
and  they  would  deride  me  were  I  to  go 
over  there  with  only  the  unfashionable 
and  humdrum  folks.  So  saying,  I  dashed 
on ;  but  he  called  out  to  me  with  such  a 
terrible  voice,  I  stopped  right  where  I 
stood  and  heard  him  plainly  say,  — '  Re- 
member that  the  white  bridge  is  safe  all 
the  way  to  the  end,  where  are  green  pas- 


THR  BOTTLED   MANUSCRIPT.  305 


tures  and  fruitful  gardens;  but  the  red 
bridge  breaks  off  before  the  river  is 
crossed,  and  whoever  reaches  that  place 
never  sees  the  yawning  chasm  until  he 
is  too  far  gone  to  turn  back.  Closing  his 
eyes,  to  shut  out  the  fearful  sight  of  the 
inky  waters,  he  steps  off,  —  a  loud  cry  or 
a  silent  plunge  and  he  is  gone  down  to  be 
seen  no  more  I '  '  WeU,  I  guess  I'll  risk 
it  if  so  many  respectable  people  go  on  be- 
fore me,'  I  said ;  '  and  at  all  events  if  I  get 
tired  of  it,  it  is  time  to  think  of  going  over 
to  the  other  bridge  when  I  have  tried  this.' 
"  But  oh !  had  I  given  heed  to  that 
warning  when  I  started,  or  to  any  of  the 
voices  which  shouted  to  me  fi:om  the 
safe  way,  as  I  hurried  madly  on !  I  took 
my  own  course,  and  laughed  at  the  croak- 
ers.    I   have   had    my   own  way,  —  alas ! 

26* 


306  THE   KED    BRIDGE. 


what  a  way  after  the  first  few  stages  of 
excitement,  triumph,  and  self-indulgence. 
For  a  long  way  back  there  have  been  only 
losses,  crosses,  sorrows  upon  sorrows ! 

"  Sad,  indeed,  is  the  memory  of  my  being 
urged  on  when  I  began  to  falter,  by  those 
in  whom  I  had  the  utmost  confidence,  and 
who  told  me  that  the  red  bridge  was  by 
far  the  safest  for  my  health  of  body; 
that  I  should  lose  my  strength  and  spirits 
if  I  went  over  to  the  other. 

"  I  remember  now,  when  I  had  nearly 
resolved  to  quit  this  ugly  way,  that  I  fell 
sick,  and  then  it  was  that  the  maddening 
advice  to  keep  on  the  red  bridge  increased 
my  velocity  fourfold,  while  my  capability 
to  quit  this  way  was  nearly  annulled. 

"  Ah  !  what  judgment  will  not  be  meted 
out  to  these  deceivers  of  themselves  and 


THE    BOTTLED   MANUSCRIPT.  307 


others !  When  I  think  of  the  power  of 
personal  influence  in  regard  to  this  fatal 
course,  influence  of  word  and  of  alluring 
example,  I  shut  my  eyes  against  the  over- 
whelming picture ! 

"  But  the  saddest  thought  of  all  is,  that 
I  have  been  the  means  of  inducing  others, 
who  else  would  have  kept  along  on  the 
safe  track,  to  come  over  and  join  this 
destruction-doomed  company.  One  prom- 
ising young  man  I  recall  with  deepest 
self-accusation.  He  was  an  orphan  who 
took  my  guiding-word  instead  of  his 
father's,  which  he  had  lost.  And  how  did 
I  discharge  the  responsibility? 

"  I  now"  gaze  over  to  the  other  bridge, 
only  to  see  the  peace  and  happiness  I  have 
lost.  Maddening  thought !  Torturing  pic- 
ture of  unattainable  happiness ! 


THE    RED    BRIDGE. 


"  I  am  now  just  on  the  brink  of  the  fatal 
chasm,  against  which  the  friend  of  my 
youth,  so  long  ago,  warned  me !  One 
more  step,  and  I  go  down  into  the  cold, 
dark  waters  I  see  before  me,  —  down ! 
down !  down  to  hell ! 

"  It  is  cold,  but  I  feel  it  not,  for  the 
unquenchable  fire  burns  within  me.  I  will 
drain  the  bottle  once  more,  and  then 
within  it  deposit  this  record,  which,  may 
some  deluded  mortal  find  in  time  to  be 
warned  against  my  fate. 

"  Eliza !  thou  art  dead !  I  know  it  by 
the  way  thou  lookest  on  me  now ;  and 
there  is  no  track  in  the  snow  as  thou 
passest  by  !  Hast  thou  come  for  me  ?  It 
grows  colder.  I  must  hasten.  Oh,  this 
red  bridge  which  hast  brought  me  to  the 
dark  chasm  I  " 


X. 

fN  the  summer  there  came  to  the  Alton 
mansion  a  lady,  who  was  a  distant 
^    relative  of    Mr.  Alton,  from  a  west- 
ern  city.     She    spent    a    few   days    with 
them  on  her  route  to  the  sea-coast. 

"  I  find  that  our  local  customs  differ 
from  yom's  in  some  respects,"  she  said  to 
Mary,  one  afternoon,  after  several  visitors 
of  an  hour  had  been  present. 
"Why  so?"  asked  Mary. 
"  With  us,"  she  continued,  "  it  is  thought 
indispensable  to  hospitality  to  order  wine 
for  our  guests  of  even  a  brief,  formal 
caU." 

(309) 


310  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


"  Do  all  your  people  observe  this  prac- 
tice ?  "  inquired  Mary. 

"  Nearly  all  in  our  particular  circle. 
There  are,  to  be  sure,  persons  of  some  of 
the  religious  societies  who  do  not  follow 
this  rule,  but  they  are  the  exception." 

"  Do  you  find  your  rule  to  work  well  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  we  are  a  social  people,  who 
hold  to  getting  the  most  enjoyment  out 
of  life,  consistent  with  good  morals  and 
good  society.  We  don't  believe  in  going 
to  heaven  as  the  crusaders  went  to  Jeru- 
alem,  with  hard  peas  in  their  shoes." 

The  lady  laughed,  but  Mrs.  Comfort, 
who  was  present,  seemed  remarkably- 
serious,  although  there  might  have  been 
seen  a  curious  look  in  her  eyes,  which  in- 
dicated that  this  subject  was  by  no  means 
near  exhaustion. 


THE    SURPRISE.  311 


"  May  I  suppose  your  people  never 
stumble  with  their  smooth-going  shoes?" 
said  Mrs.  Comfort. 

"  Why  no  ;  though  sometimes  '  acci- 
dents happen  in  the  best-regulated  families,' 
as  the  old  saying  is,"  returned  the  lady, 

"  Then  you  confess  there  are  some  slips 
after  the  cup  has  reached  the  lips  ?  "  said 
Mrs.  Comfort. 

"  The  truth  is  your  eastern  people  make 
the  worst  work  of  our  customs,  when  they 
come  out  and  find  themselves  at  liberty  to 
do  as  the  Romans  do.  A  lady  from  one  of 
your  cities  spent  some  time  in  our  city  this 
season.  She  stopped  with  a  family  of  our 
set  so  that  I  met  her  frequently.  She  was 
out  returning  some  calls  with  her  daughter 
and  a  friend,  one  afternoon,  and,  as  at  every 
house  they  offered  them  wine,  this  lady,  it 


312  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 


appears,  drank  as  though  she  was  glad  of 
good  wine,  such  as  she  didn't  often  see  at 
home.  At  the  fourth  place  in  her  round 
of  visits,  after  drinking  off  again  a  fine 
glass,  she  fell  down  upon  the  floor  in  a 
state  of  perfect  intoxication.  Her  daugh- 
ter, a  fine,  high-bred  girl,  was  so  alarmed 
at  the  spectacle  of  her  mother  rolling  on 
the  carpet  in  her  abject  degradation,  that 
she  fainted.  As  it  was  the  residence  of 
one  of  our  most  aristocratic  families,  the 
friend  who  accompanied  them  was  ready 
to  die  of  mortification.  She  ordered  a 
coach  and  got  them  off"  out  of  the  scene 
of  their  disgrace  as  soon  as  possible. 
'  Poor  ]Mrs.  Wallingford ! '  exclaimed  the 
lady  of  the  house  where  this  took  place, 
when  she  was  commenting  upon  the  cir- 
cumstances   afterward    to    me ;   '  she    has 


THE   SURPRISE.  313 


yet  to  learn  just  how  much  good  wine 
she  can  bear.  Her  head  is  rather  small 
of  her  age  I '  " 

"  Mrs.  Wallingford  did  you  say  ?  "  now 
inquired  Mary,  anxiously. 

"  Did  I  mention  the  name !  I  ought  to 
have  been  more  prudent,  certainly.  Since 
I  have  betrayed  it,  then,  I  may  as  well 
go   on   with   the   whole.     It  was   a   lady 

from  your  city  of ,  and  her  daughter 

had  been  attending  a  celebrated  semi- 
nary —  I  think  it  was  —  at  Blenheim." 

Mary  exchanged  glances  of  surprise 
with  Mrs.  Comfort,  who  said, — 

"  I  guess  that  woman  was  glad  to  get  back 
again  to  a  more  temperate  latitude,  where 
her  temptations  would  be  less  numerous." 

"  She  never  appeared  there  again  in 
public,    and   she   went   away    a  few  days 

27 


314  THE   RED   BRIDGE. 

after,  although  she  had  intentions  of  re- 
maining some  months.  I  felt  very  sorry 
for  Miss  Wallingford,  her  daughter,  as 
she  seemed  to  have  captivated  a  young 
gentleman,  who  is  reckoned  an  excellent 
match.  But  after  that  disgraceful  scene 
got  around,  he  never  called  on  her  again." 

"  Very  inconsistent,  unreasonable  peo- 
ple ! "  ejaculated  Mrs.  Comfort. 

"  How  is  that  ?  "  inquired  the  lady. 

"  It  seems  they  do  not  hesitate  to  put 
the  cup  to  their  neighbor's  mouth,  and 
then  if  one  chances  to  get  a  little  too 
much  so  as  to  bring  on  an  awkward  scene, 
she  is  condemned  and  derided.  I  should 
think  the  right  course  would  be  not  to 
tempt  people  with  that  which  turns  them 
into  beasts  in  their  appearance,"  said 
Mrs.  Comfort,  with  decision. 


THE   SURPRISE.  315 


"  I  don't  think  it  would  have  made 
quite  so  much  of  a  sensation,"  observed 
the  lady,  "  had  not  the  young  man  so 
suddenly  have  visited  judgment  upon 
Miss  Wallingford ;  and  he  was,  doubtless, 
influenced  very  considerably  by  a  young 
gentleman  friend,  who  was  formerly  from 
the  east,  and  who  is  such  a  rabid  temper- 
ance man,  he  is  an  anomaly  out  there 
among  his  acquaintance." 

"  By  the  way,"  continued  the  lady  who 
desired  to  change  the  subject,  as  it  was 
becoming  slightly  unpleasant,  "  this  other 
young  man  has  a  very  peculiar  history, 
which  I  heard  from  his  own  lips  with  deep 
interest.     Shall   I  relate  it,  Mrs.  Alton  ?  " 

"  If  you  please,"  answered  Mary. 

"  He  said  he  enlisted  into  the  Federal 
army  about  the  time  the  war  commenced, 


319  THE   KED    BRIDGE. 


was  shot,  and  left  for  dead.  Afterwards 
he  was  picked  up  by  the  rebels  and  im- 
prisoned, where  he  suffered  terribly.  Oh, 
it  was  heart-rending  to  hear  him  describe 
his  situation  at  that  time  !  While  he  was 
in  prison  he  remembered  aU  his  past  Life, 
and  some  tilings,  I  should  judge,  troubled 
him  very  much.  After  staying  there  till 
he  was  almost  worn  out,  he  was  released. 
It  seems  he  did  not  want  to  go  back  to 
his  friends,  until  he  had  done  something 
to  distinguish  himself.  In  particular  he 
wished  to  prove  that  he  was  reformed 
from  some  of  his  old  habits  of  intemper- 
ance. So  he  wandered  around  until  he 
did  something  one  day  that  attracted  the 
attention  of  a  Federal  officer,  who  soon 
after  engaged  him  as  his  secretary.  He 
remained  in    this     position,  true     to   his 


THE   SURPRISE.  317 


good  intentions,  until  he  obtained  the  fine 
situation  of  secretary  to  him  who  is  now 
Governor  of  our  State.  Here  he  said  he 
was  tempted  every  day  to  drink  again ; 
but  he  resolved  to  live  one  year  and  see 
if  he  could  endm-e  the  ordeal,  when  if  he 
came  off  conqueror,  he  should  write  home 
to  his  friends  and  let  them  know  where 
he  was.  The  strangest  part  of  it  is,  he 
was  an  only  brother,  and  his  sister  believes 
he  is  dead.  She  wiU  be  overjoyed  when 
he  makes  himself  known,  for  he  has  be- 
come one  of  the  finest  fellows  I  ever  met. 
The  governor  thinks  highly  of  him  and 
entrusts  him  with  unusual  responsibilities. 
He  told  my  husband  he  was  worth  every- 
thing to  him  now,  and  especially  for  his 
habits  of  strict  devotion  to  principle,  so 
that  it  was  always  safe  to  trust  him.     The 

27* 


318  THE  RED   BRIDGE. 


young  man  told  me  himself  that  he 
owed  everjrthing  to  his  sister.  Then,  said 
I,  why  don't  you  make  some  return  by 
discovering  yourself  to  her?  He  said  he 
was  going  to,  when  the  time  of  his  self- 
prescribed  probation  had  expired,  which  is 
very  soon  now,  I  believe." 

"  Alas !  "  sighed  Mary ;  "  I  had  an  only 
and  beloved  brother  in  the  army,  who 
was  killed.  I  know  how  to  feel  for  that 
young  man's  sister." 

She  arose  and  went  to  the  centre-table 
where  she  found  a  photograph-album. 
Turning  to  the  picture  of  her  brother,  she 
showed  it  to  her  guest. 

"  It  is  astonishing  how  much  this  pic- 
ture resembles  that  young  man,"  ex- 
claimed the  lady.  "  Certainly,  I  should 
think  Mr.  Winslow  sat  for  it,  himself! " 


THE   SURPRISE.  319 


"  Mr.  Winslow  ! "  cried  Mary,  turning 
pale. 

"  Yes  ;  that  is  his  name,  —  let  me  think, 
his  first  name  is  William.  I  remember 
it,  because  it  is  the  same  name  of  my 
oldest  son  who  died  many  years  ago." 

"  William  Winslow  I "  gasped  Mary, 
"  then  it  must  be  my  own  lost  brother  I  " 

"  Possible !  "  exclaimed  the  lady.  "  He 
told  me  his  home  was  in  this  State.  He 
said  he  had  kept  himself  aware  of  his 
sister's  getting  along,  by  means  of  an  old 
friend  who  was  in  his  secret.  I  remember 
now  he  told  me  she  had  married  very 
well  to  a  young  lawyer  of  property ;  but 
I  little  thought  it  was  any  relative  of  my 
own  to  whom  he  referred." 

"  You  will  excuse  me  to  retire  to  my 
own  room,"  said  Mary,  while  the  tears  came 


320  THE   RED    BRIDGE. 


rapidly,  —  tears  of  grateful,  overwhelming 
joy,  such  as  angels  might  behold  with 
sympathetic  emotion. 

For  some  time  Mary  sat  alone  by  her 
open  window,  and,  looking  upward  to 
the  blue,  unclouded  skies,  reflected  upon 
the  goodness  of  her  heavenly  Father. 
Her  heart  dissolved  in  penitential  grati- 
tude as  she  thought  of  the  mysterious 
way  in  which  he  had  led  her  up  to  the 
present  moment,  which  was  now  so  laden 
with  mercies. 

Opening  the  beloved  Bible,  to  which 
she  had  so  often  resorted  in  the  trying 
seasons  of  the  past,  and  also  in  moments 
of    faith    and    consolation,    she    read:  — 

"  And  he  shall  sit  as  a  refiner  and 
purifier  of  silver,  and  he  shall  purify  the 
sons  of  Levi,  and  purge  them  as  gold  and 


THE    SURPRISE.  321 


silver,  that  they  may  offer  unto  the  Lord 
an  offering  in  righteousness.  Then  shall 
the  offering  of  Judah  and  Jerusalem  be 
pleasant  unto  the  Lord  as  in  the  days  of 
old,  and  as  in  former  years." 


THE    END. 


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